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chilling hopelessness crept over Lizette. Page 27. 


THE QUEER HOME 


IN 


RUGBY COURT, 


BY 


1 


ANNETTE LUCILLE NOBLE, 

H 

AUTHOR OF “JUDGE BRANARd’s INFANTRY,” “ELEANOR WILLOUGHBY,” 

“st. Augustine’s ladder,” “head and heart,” etc. 




NEW YORK: 


National Temperance Society and Publication House, 

58 READE STREET. 

1878. 



v 


VTA _ 


COPYRIGHT, 1878, BY 

J. N. STEARNS, Publishing Agent. 


EDWARD O. JENKINS, 
PRINTER AND STEREOTYPED, 
20 NORTH WILLIAM ST., N. Y. 


THE 


QUEER HOME IN RUGBY COURT. 


“ To endure the livery of a nun, 

For aye to be in shady cloister mewed.” 

— Shakespeare. 

« 

One sultry midsummer afternoon, a tiny, 
red row-boat shot out from shore, and then 
drifted down stream on the St. Lawrence 
River. The occupant of the boat was a tall 
young girl about sixteen years old. Her 
shining black hair was pushed back from a 
low but handsome forehead. Her large blue 
eyes, with long black lashes, were clear and 
very soft, yet all that gave the needed color 
to her olive complexion was the very brilliant 
red of her lips. She wore a skirt of dark- 
blue wool, with a brighter plaid shawl tied 

( 3 ) 


4 


The Queer Home in 


carelessly under her arms, behind. Her hat, 
which could never have come from a mil- 
liner’s shop, must have been woven by some 
deft - fingered squaw; nevertheless, bound 
down with a red strap, it gave a certain pictur- 
esque air to this girl, who might not have been 
called a beauty, yet whose singular face al- 
ways attracted and re -attracted the attention 
of chance strangers. She carried her head 
with a half-defiant toss or poise ; yet her ex- 
pression was usually that of a careless child 
preoccupied for the moment. Lizette Ber- 
nard was the only child of a French Canadian 
living just on the outskirts of a poor little 
village between Quebec and Tadoussac. Her 
mother died when she was very young ; her 
father followed her mother one year previous 
to the opening of our story. After his death, 
she took into her home an old woman for 
servant and companion ; and so had lived on 
in the same lit’tle thatched cabin that had ever 
been her abode. Her wants, which in that 


5 


Rugby Court . 

primitive region were few and very simple, 
were supplied by the bounty of the parish 
priest, who was her present guardian, and 
had been for years her father’s friend. It was 
Father D’Hullin’s intention, some time , to 
send Lizette to a Quebec nunnery ; but for 
reasons he could scarcely have explained, he 
delayed carrying out the project. She was 
so full of energy and spirit, that the good- 
natured old Catholic, priest though he was, 
felt it almost a pity to take a girl who loved to 
row and fish, and roam the woods, and shut 
her up to prayers, penances, and embroider- 
ing altar-cloths. In the meantime, he com- 
promised with his conscience by teaching her 
much that would be of use to her afterward, 
if she herself should teach within the con- 
vent. 

We left Lizette indolently dipping her bat- 
tered old oars into the shining water, and 
gazing out upon a scene from which familiar- 
ity could never take the charm. To her 


6 


The Queer Home in 


right, for miles and miles, the river sparkled 
in the sunlight, and the farther shore was but 
a faint, dark line, separating the watery blue 
from the heavenly blue. On her left was a 
near, long stretch of .level sand, below grass- 
green banks — the banks sloping from groves 
of pine, hemlock, and dwarf oak. Still far- 
ther back were ranges of hills, the nearer 
ones vivid with sunlit verdure, or chased over 
with shadows from flying clouds ; the more 
distant ones running through violet tints into 
faintest outlines on the sky. Behind her, un- 
der the shelter of a great overhanging rock, 
was her homely cabin, in whose door-way she 
could dimly distinguish fat old Jean. Before 
her was the near settlement where lived 
Father D’Hullin; it was a most quaint little 
hamlet, very like the toy villages with which 
children play. It had many stiff, red-roofed 
little houses, all about of one size, rows of 
tall, dark Lombardy poplars, and an old 
church, with a slender spire and a deep stone 


7 


Rugby Court. 

porch, where generations of birds had nested 
from year to year. Coming nearer, Lizette 
could plainly see the church-yard in front, 
with its regular mounds marked by little white 
crosses, and not far from, the church entrance 
the one great gilded cross, visible far out on 
the water. Lizette was not habitually de- 
vout ; but something in the beauty and quiet 
of the scene touched her with transient so- 
lemnity. She remembered her father laid 
there under the turf, and crossed herself with 
a murmured prayer for his soul, before she 
drew her boat to shore at the proper landing. 
She clambered up a steep bank, over a 
crumbling stone wall, and into the grave- 
yard, where she loitered a half hour or more. 
She busied herself training a vine that grew 
in her corner, compactly filling with earth a 
hole made in the turf by some burrowing 
animal, dreaming a good deal — not thinking 
much. Life had not begun to mean anything 
in particular to Lizette, or if it had, she did 


8 


The Queer Home in 


not know it yet. Suddenly perceiving the 
shadow of a tree lying long across the 
graves, she remembered her errand, and 
that the afternoon would soon be gone. She 
hurried toward the . church, her straw hat 
hanging on her arm, and a few steps around 
the building, and behind it, brought her to 
the priest’s door. She stood on the big, flat 
door-stone — knocked twice, and then, unin- 
vited, entered his study. It was a low, white- 
washed room, containing a worn oak table, a 
rusty leather-covered chair, a brazen lamp, a 
book-case, a silver crucifix, and on the wall a 
rudely-framed picture of Saint Jerome in ter- 
ror at a vision of the day of judgment — 
these, but no person. Lizette, crossing the 
room, looked over the shelf on which Father 
D’Hullin had placed a few books for her pe- 
rusal ; none among them attracted her on this 
particular day, and she turned her attention 
to his, which he had never prohibited to her. 
It would be hard to tell why she chose from one 


Rugby Court. 


9 


corner a small, fine-print copy of “ Pascal’s 
Letters ; ” but this she did. The nearest ap- 
proach to a story in the whole case was a dreary 
‘‘Tale of the Catacombs,” by Cardinal Wise- 
man, and this Lizette had read, and re-read. 
Taking the book before mentioned, she re- 
traced her steps around the church, and came 
in front to its shadowy porch. She went up 
and sat down within, thinking to wait a while 
for the priest. Over her head the stones 
were green with ancient moss ; under her 
feet they had sunken, and here and there fine 
grass had crept up into life between their 
crevices. The place where she sat was a 
lovely nook, full of tremulous lights and shad- 
ows, shifting the dainty green and gold just 
as the dancing leaves, without the arch, quiv- 
ered or were quiet ; and through the arch was 
framed as a picture the river and the mount- 
ains, flushed with the sunset. A few steps 
below was the greensward, warm and bright 
in the sunshine ; while bordering the narrow 


io The Queer Home in 

path from the porch, down between the 
graves, and running off to nestle around the 
base of the head-stones, was a wealth of wild 
forget-me-nots. 

“ Are you here, Lizette ? ” asked a low, 
clear voice at her side. 

“Yes, I am waiting for your brother,” she 
answered, just glancing up, and then calmly 
making room upon the bench for the new- 
comer. “ Were you in the church, Mau- 
rice ? ” she continued, speaking, as did he, 
pure French, instead of the patois of the vil- 
lagers in general. 

“ Yes, I have been there mending a broken 
seat.” 

“ How many of these little blue flowers 
there are in the grass ! ” said the girl, after a 
while. “ Who planted them there ? ” 

“No one — the ‘forget-me-nots’ the En- 
glish call them ; they grow naturally out of 
the graves. The dead can not ash us to re- 
member them ; but the visible words corn© up.” 


II 


Rugby Court. 

Maurice was not very much given to talking 
poetically, but, with Lizette, he often thought 
out-loud. 

On this occasion, however, she was a little 
surprised at the grave quickness with which 
he answered her, quite as if he had settled to 
his own satisfaction, long before, this matter 
of the flowers and the dead. She turned and 
looked a second into his frank, intelligent 
face; from his face her glance took in slowly 
his straight, sinewy figure, and every detail 
of his dress, as if for the first time it had oc- 
curred to her to mark what sort of a person 
was this Maurice D’Hullin, with whom, when 
a mere baby, she had quarreled for a play- 
thing. Girl-like, she noted how tanned was 
the naturally pale skin of his forehead, and 
took no heed of what technically would be 
called his “ splendid craniological develop- 
ments.” She liked the large, brooding black 
eyes better when they sparkled with fun than 
when so grave — like “Saint Jerome’s,” as 


12 The Queer "Home in 

Lizette often told him ; yet now, notwith- 
standing the rude simplicity of his dress; she 
decided that Maurice was, in person as in 
mind, “ queer, and not at all disagreeable/' 
In fact, he was much more intellectual than 
his brother, who secretly acknowledged the 
superiority, while he guided his studies pre- 
paratory to a college course. 

“ Maurice will be a priest,” had sounded in 
the boy’s ears almost since he had any ears ; 
and as he grew toward manhood, he never 
said nay. 

“ What book have you ? ” he asked, taking 
the book itself for an answer. “ Where did 
you get it ? ” 

“ From the lower shelf.” 

“ I never saw it there.” 

“ Maybe it tumbled out from behind the 
rest. Father D’Hullin said once he kept 
some pushed back of the others.” 

“ Old ones, I suppose. Well, this does not 


13 


Rugby Court . 

look very entertaining ; ” and he tossed it 
lightly into her lap. 

“ Where has your brother gone ? ” asked 
Lizette, not noticing his verdict on the book. 

“He went away a while ago with the priest 
from B said Maurice, naming a settle- 

ment farther up the river. 

As he spoke, the fat little person of Father 
D’Hullin appeared behind them in the church- 
door, whither he had come from the interior 
of the building. Espying the couple so de- 
murely conversing, a droll smile lit up his 
face, and he dropped into a seat just within, 
where he could listen unseen. In spite of 
his office, the reverend father dearly loved a 
joke ; and the chance of overhearing some- 
thing with which to tease Lizette was always 
tempting. Whoever feels inclined to censure 
him, must remember the poverty of his social 
resources. 

“I don’t like Father Vignon, of B 


14 


The Queer Home in 


said the girl, with sudden animation. “ In 
fact, I detest him ; even his long, sharp nose 
provokes me. I wish all priests were like 
our good old father.” 

The jolly form, behind the door was agi- 
tated in the dark, by noiseless laughter. 

“ You will be a priest some day, Maurice, 
won’t you ? ” and Lizette, suddenly turning 
again, studied, for a second time, the boy at 
her side, as if fancying him robed, shaven, 
and shorn. 

“ Yes, when you are a religieuseT 

“ A religieuse ! ” she repeated it dreamily 
after him. “ I suppose so ; but that seems 
years away, as I want it to be. Living here 
is so — I don’t know just what to say ; but — -je 
suis bien contente .” 

She did not hear a faint sigh from the 
background, where sat Father D’Hullin ; for 
she quietly asked, “ Are you not also con- 
tented with the now , Maurice ? ” 

“ Yes — no — I can not tell.” 


Rugby Court . 15 

“Are you, then, in a hu ry to be a priest, 
to be called ‘ Father?”’ and she laughed mer- 
rily at the title. 

“ I am in a hurry for some things — some- 
times ; but I am not in a hurry for a life like 
my brother’s. It would be dull — yet I lead a 
duller now, and am on the whole, as you say, 
content. But the good of this life here can n.ot 
last — it goes, never to be had again, and the 
dullness will remain.” 

“ What good, for instance ? ” 

Maurice did not answer at first ; by and by 
a quick color flushed his face, and he smiled, 
as if at an after-thought. 

“Well,jw#/ Who ever heard of a priest 
and a nun going salmon-fishing or skating on 
a wager ? ” 

Lizette’s clear eyes grew darker with 
thought ; she clasped her hands a moment, 
then raising both, emphatically exclaimed : 

“ I won’t be a religieuse ! I never said I 
would. It is a holy vocation, without doubt, 


1 6 The Queer Home in 

but— I am not holy. Who wants to be a — to 
have a vocation, if they are not fitted for it ? 
I wonder I ever thought of it.” 

Her vehemence was so child-like, that Mau- 
rice smiled faintly as he said : 

“ Then you can skate and fish forever ; but 
my case is not bettered.” 

. “ Don’t be a priest, Maurice ! ” 

When he spoke again, it was evident fish 
and skates were not in his mind, although he 
asked : 

“ What could I be, if not a priest ? ” 

“ Why, live right along here in the same 
way ; and let us all keep together. Father 
D’Hullin and you are all the friends I have in 
the world. Why should we separate ? ” 
Lizette’s ringing voice had toned so sudden- 
ly into sadness, that the words were pathetic. 
Maurice, with the simplicity of a kind-hearted 
boy, took her hand in his sun-burned one, and 
held it ; but said nothing, as there seemed 
nothing to say. She rose up to go in a little 


Rugby Court . 17 

while, and Maurice, as if continuing a line of 
thought aloud, said : 

“ Father Vignon said you must be in Que- 
bec before winter ; he found great fault with 
my brother that he had not sent you before 
this — I overheard as much.” 

“ He is an old meddler,” said Lizette, hot- 
ly, a perverse desire arising within her to 
thwart the priest. “ Father D’Hullin won’t 
force me to do what I am not ready to — I 
know he won’t.” 

With a passionate toss of her high head, 
she sprang away down the old stones, and 
trod carelessly over the grass on the graves. 
A moment or two after, Maurice saw her 
skimming lightly on the water, and knew, by 
the quick plashing of her oars, that she was 
beating out her temper against the steady 
current. He wondered, half unconsciously, 
whether that temper would beat as fiercely 
against possible opposition in the future, and 
most of all whether that opposition would not 


1 8 The Queer Home in Rugby Court. 

be, in the long run, as resistless as that cur- 
rent. Father D’Hullin peeped out upon him 
for an instant as he sat musing, his beardless 
chin in the palm of his hand, his great, sol- 
emn eyes fixed on the shining waves. The 
jolly look had vanished from the priest’s face ; 
he gazed but a second, and then vanished 
within. Neither Maurice nor Lizette ever 
knew that their first outlook into the future 
— which they had taken hand in hand — had 
been noted by another. 


II. 


“ Never stand begging for that which you have power to 
take.” — D on Quixote. 

That same night Father D’Hullin sat in 
his old leather chair, which was drawn outside 
the cabin-door, and, for the first time in a 
good while, was taking anxious thought for 
the morrow. His two dogs looked up at him 
in a sort of wondering endurance of this 
thoughtful mood, in what was usually their 
time for a frolic. Jolie, the saucy, black ter- 
rier, every now and then nipped his fat 
calves with her sharp white teeth, as much as 
to say: “ Arouse yourself, father ! Don’t be 
dumpish ! ” But Jacque, the great Newfound- 
land dog, on the contrary, supported his chin 
on the priest’s knee, his gentle eyes plainly 
saying : “ Think away, master ! If you are 

troubled, you have my sympathy.” 

(19) 


20 The Queer Home in 

* 

Every bashful child and every tame animal 
for miles around loved Father D’Hullin. 
Mentally he was a man of merely respectable 
attainments ; for he was much fonder of hu- 
man sympathy than of learning. Brother 
priests of his own order complained of what 
they considered his lax discipline and unwise 
benevolence, of the comparatively small 
amount of money he' drew into the church 
treasury from the resources of his humble 
flock, and the familiarity with which he en- 
tered into their domestic life. But when 
arraigned before his superiors upon such 
charges, the kindly old fellow had always 
disarmed criticism. If it was true that he did 
cancel this poor man’s pew tax, it was only 
because his cow was dead and his children 
clamoring for food — and so on — even the best 
of excuses for his leniency, and urged so 
meekly, with just a touch of humor to concil- 
iate, perhaps. Father D’Hullin, in infancy, 
must have accepted his mother’s religion as 


R ugby Court . 


21 


truth, and never after tried the foundations 
of his belief. He thought nothing about it 
as a system any way. His practical religion 
consisted in trying to love his neighbor as 
himself, and his gentle, generous disposition 
made the attempt quite successful. Whether 
he loved the Lord his God with all his heart, 
we dare not decide. If he did, was he not a 
Christian, call him what else you may ? The- 
Creator alone, through all trammels of super- 
stition, through all false teaching, could read 
this man’s soul. 

Smoking flax He shall not quench. Even 
in the day when the Heavenly Shepherd walk- 
ed the earth, He had “other sheep,” whom 
all the flock knew not. Shall it not be so 
when He cometh again ? 

But we wander from our story. At last 
Father D’ Hulun shook the ashes from his 
pipe, pushed it back from him, and remarked 
to the dogs : 

“ Maurice must go to the college at once.” 


22 


The Queer Home in 


The nose of the Newfoundland arose in 
the air, and he blinked his approval. 

“ As for Lizette, she will give gp if I work 
upon her wisely ; no use in being harsh about 
it. She must not think she is being perse- 
cuted. It is for her good! Yes, it is — it 
must be.” 

The fathers face relaxed into its usual 
cheerfulness; Jolie pricked up her ears, threw 
up her spry legs, and bounded suddenly into 
his lap. Jacque looked disgusted, but kept 
his place, even when Jolie wagged her short 
tail in his face. 

“ Oh, you are home, are you ? ” asked Mau- 
rice, suddenly appearing from the woods, 
which ran close up to the house on one 
side. 

“ Yes, we came back an hour ago. I have 
had my supper ; let old Marie give you yours 
while it is warm ; she has baked the best 
stuffed fish we have had in a long time.” 

“ I do not wish anything to eat,” said 


Rugby Court. 


2 3 


Maurice, flinging himself down upon the turf, 
and gently pulling Jacque into service as a 
pillow. 

“ Marie,” roared Father D’Hullin to his deaf 
old servant, somewhere in the rear of the 
cabin. “Take all that is left of the supper 
around to Pierre Rougon’s ! He is sick, and 
the children may be hungry.” 

A faint grumble testified that Marie over- 
heard, and Father D’Hullin resumed his pipe, 
furtively watching with a certain interest this 
young brother, who did not want his supper. 
By and by he said, with an evident attempt 
to seem careless : 

“ Father Vignon says they want you at 
college, Maurice. He rated me soundly for 
being so slow to get you off. He says they 
really must have you soon, if at all.” 

“ They can have me one time as well as 
another, then,” said Maurice, calmly smooth- 
ing Jacque’s silky ears. 

A bland snide of peace overspread the 


24 


The Queer Home in 


priest’s visage. His supper had been most 
excellent, Maurice was pliant, and probably 
Lizette would prove so. The transient 
trouble of the afternoon fled away*; he leaned 
back in his chair, and soon his regularly- 
repeated snores were the only sounds that 
broke the silence of the twilight. Maurice 
rose up, and, followed by both dogs, strolled 
down to listen to the more musical lap and 
ripple of the river waves. He had been un- 
usually depressed since his talk with Lizette, 
and he was almost glad that his brother had 
called him to action, or at least to change. 
He sat musing over his coming life at the 
college, when a low growl from Jacque made 
him look up, to see Father Vignon returning 
to the cabin for the night. He threw himself 
back on the sand, and let the priest go by 
unrecognized, for something of Lizette’s aver- 
sion had been communicated to him. It 
was not until both priests had been long 


Rugby Court . 25 

asleep that Maurice left the river, and his 
long reverie by its shore. 

Lizette reached home that afternoon, only 
remembering, as she drew her boat high up 
on the sand near the cabin, that she had for- 
gotten her errand, after all. Jean met her 
scowling, and announced that if she did not 
want to eat, when the time came, may be 
other people did. She was an uncivil old 
woman, with considerable Indian blood in 
her veins. She shuffled around on her bare 
feet, and dished up the food baking in the 
stone oven outside the cabin-door. She laid 
the plates on the clean, uncovered table, with 
such other common articles as were required 
by their very simple manner of housekeep- 
ing ; then muttering that the supper was 
ready, she waited upon her young mistress, 
and at her invitation proceeded to eat for 
both of them. When her day’s work was 
over, Jean threw an old blanket over her 


26 


The Queer Home in 


head, and started off for a gossip and pipe- 
smoking within the nearest cabin. Lizette 
opened wide the outer door, and seated her- 
self on the threshold. Everything without 
lay in the tender glow of the last sunlight ; 
pink clouds lingered in the sky, although a 
new moon had stolen out to see itself in the 
water as a mirror. Yet, in spite of the 
beauty of the twilight outside, Lizette soon 
turned away from it, and sat looking within 
the room, tracing with her eye the rude out- 
lines of furniture, shadowy in the inner gloom. 
But that room was not homely or lonely to 
Lizette. It had sheltered her for sixteen 
years of quiet and contentment ; she would 
willingly believe it might shelter her for as 
many years to come. The restlessness that 
comes into some girlish minds had never 
moved this unsophisticated heroine of ours. 
A long shadow fell suddenly on the grass be- 
fore the door, and Father Vignon, whom she 
supposed miles away, stood very erect before 


27 


Rugby Court. 

her. She rose up with a salutation not pre- 
cisely vivacious, and entered the room to 
strike a light. The priest followed her, and 
remained standing — tall, black, and very im- 
pressive, by reason of these attributes. With- 
out any circumlocution whatever, he told her 
the reason of his visit. He was going soon 
to Quebec, and would like to make all the 
arrangements for her novitiate in the nun- 
nery. He spoke very concisely, and with 
less animation in his pale face than Father 
D’Hullin showed in a glance ; but one never 
mistook Father Vignon’s sloth and reticence 
for meekness and indecision. His back-bone 
was too erect ; while his slowly-uttered sen- 
tences had a kind of cold-steel directness. 
A chilling hopelessness crept over Lizette, 
and she murmured something half unintelli- 
gible, instead of the positive refusal she had 
meant to make. The priest seemed not to 
notice this, but went on almost mechani- 


28 


The Queer Home in 


“You ought to be dissatisfied with your 
present life ; it is most unprofitable for your 
soul. Every one of these days lent you from 
Heaven, that you might work out your own 
salvation, you are throwing wickedly away. 
For each of them now spent in sinful in- 
dulgence of your follies, you must suffer tor- 
ture hereafter. If you go into a community 
where every moment is employed for good, 
you will, no matter what your employment 
may be, lay up for yourself stores of spiritual 
blessings. The months in which you are a 
novice will fly faster than any time spent in 
the world.” 

Lizette started at those last words. Then 
she was going out of the world ! No sounds 
had fallen so dismally on her ear since she 
heard the clods drop on her fathers coffin. 

“ I am not good enough to like such a life, 
Father Vignon.” 

“ If you are headstrong enough to dislike 
it, all the more need that you should accept 


Rugby Court . 29 

it as a penance,” he returned, in his passion- 
less voice. 

An impulsive gesture from Lizette did not 
escape his eye, and he added, with a shade 
more of persuasion : 

"You will be quite contented, and under 
little restriction, comparatively speaking — 
certainly only under such as is wholesome. 
You can leave, if, after a full trial of the life, 
you are dissatisfied.” 

She retorted unguardedly : 

" Children are always told their medicine 
is nice ; but they never find it so.” 

"Yet, if they refuse to take it, they are 
forced. It is for their good, you know.” 

In the candle-light Father Vignon’s face 
gleamed stilF and white ; so fixed was he in 
his will to see but one side of the case, that 
Lizette, after a time of silence, felt com- 
pelled, as by an unseen force, to follow his 
bent. 

" What would I do in the nunnery ? ” 


30 


The Queer Home in 


“You will — (he did not say would, but 
made the condition a prophecy) — you will 
arise at five o’clock ; hear two masses, and 
say office three times a day ; besides spend- 
ing much time in prayer and other spiritual 
exercises. Then you will study ; for your 
education has been dreadfully neglected. 
You will have sufficient bodily exercise ; 
tjiere are garden-walks and flower-beds in 
the grounds.” 

Father Vignon had made a very consider- 
able effort to present the subject in an at- 
tractive light; but how he failed! To talk 
of walks around garden-beds to one who de- 
lighted to climb the steepest hills — to rock 
on the water when the waves were roughest 
— to gather her flowers from wild spots 
known only to herself ! Still, Lizette dared 
not protest against this disposal of her time 
and her future. She let the priest assume that 
her silence meant consent, while all the time 
she was planning an attack on Father D’Hul- 


3 1 


Rugby Court . 

lin ; just like many a naughty child, who 
cowers before one parent only to come down 
like a tempest upon the other. She asked 
Father Vignon for time to think it all over, 
and have time more particularly to consult 
her own priest. To this her unwelcome guest 
at last consented, and went away as quietly 
as he had come upon the scene. 

Next morning, before the heavy dew had 
dried off the grave-yard grass, Lizette was in 
Father D’Hullin’s study, having first assured 
herself that Father Vignon was not there. Her 
own poor guardian was at his wits’-end, for 
his knowledge of feminine tactics was lim- 
ited. It was his first encounter with one who 
“when she would she would, and when she 
wouldn’t she wouldn’t.” Not fearing him as 
a priest, Lizette had the advantage in being 
able to attack him on the side of his friend- 
ship. She plead, and argued, and coaxed ; 
she even upbraided him. As a coup d'etat, 
she laid her head on the arm of his old 


32 The Queer Home in 

leather chair, and cried long and passionate- 
ly. * The two dogs went snuffing around her 
in a sort of canine surprise ; while the rever- 
end father sat down in dismay, and clasped 
his fat hands, and stood up again and unclasped 
them ; then he implored her to have a drink 
of water — that being about the only consola- 
tion he could think to administer. It had 
come to him forcibly, last night, that Lizette 
ought to go away from this place, and this 
free, careless life ; which, as a child, she had 
not found unprofitable. He tried to show her 
that she would soon find herself a woman, 
and a discontented one ; then he drew a 
much more cunning and attractive view of 
convent-life than Father Vignon had pictured. 
But all was in vain. Finally, he consented 
to wait and let her become more reconciled 
before he pushed matters ; yet he plainly 
told her this was childishness and folly — that 
Father Vignon would call it by some worse 
name, and he sincerely hoped she would be 


33 


Rugby Court. 

more reasonable before he saw her again. 
Lizette dried her tears, and for the first time 
petted faithful old Jacque, who had been 
grieving over her, with great mournful eyes. 
She smiled gratefully when Father D’Hullin 
followed her to the door, and playfully shook 
her shoulder, saying: . 

“ I humor you when I ought to put you on 
bread-and-water for a week, and I get no 
thanks for it, either ; but don't look so woe- 
begone, child ! I trotted you on my knees 
when you were a dreadful, bad-tempered little 
girl ; I have taught you all you know since 
you grew to be a big one. I was your fa- 
ther’s best friend ; do you think I would turn 
against you now ? " 

Lizette looked up into the old man’s kindly 
face, and answered : 

“ I always have done as you have said ; 
but this is so hard ! I dread it — I don’t want 
to trouble you, but — ” 

She hesitated, and the priest laughed. 


34 


The Queer Home in 


— “ But — but — Oh ! a woman never knows 
her own mind, and always makes trouble. 
You are getting to be a woman; so you 
must begin, of course. Run along home, 
now, and come to your senses soon.” 

As Lizette walked home by the way of the 
shore, the most hopeless sadness of her short 
life settled down upon her. The river glit- 
tered like a cloth of gold, the birds sang, and 
bees, grasshoppers, and everything animate 
and happy in the sunlight, filled the air with 
pleasant sounds. She saw and heard it all 
only to feel as one might in the brief time al- 
lotted between a sentence and an imprison- 
ment. Jean was not in the cabin when she 
returned, and, glad to be relieved from her 
curious questioning, Lizette sat down, wearied 
in mind and body ; for she had slept but little 
the night before. In one corner of this largest 
room of the cabin stood a cedar desk, in 
which Lizette kept papers left by her father, 
as well as a small sum of money that Father 


35 


Rugby Court. 

D’Hullin gave to her after he had sold her 
father’s little Canadian nag and caleche, with 
a few other things of which she had no need. 
“ Keep the money until you have a wise use 
for it,” the priest had said; “and for the 
present live off fish and faith.” So she had 
done as he said, and had never gone cold or 
hungry. Fish were plenty, and Father D’Hul- 
lin saw to it that flesh and fowl were not un- 
known to old Jean’s simple larder. Lizette’s 
errand of the afternoon before had been to 
take Father D’Hullin certain of her father’s 
papers, for which he had asked, and which 
she had again to-day forgotten to deliver. 
Taking them from her pocket, she dropped 
them back again into the old desk, and stood 
with the uplifted lid in her hand, idly looking 
within. Lizette’s father had been a good- 
intentioned, inefficient man, of very tolerable 
education. He started in life with a small 
property, but wasted this little by misman- 
agement. He left Quebec, his native place, 


36 The Queer Home in 

and came to the little settlement where he 
lived like a hermit, or would have done so, 
save for the genial companionship of Father 
D’Hullin. Once in a long time, a letter 
found him out, and would be from a brother, 
of whom Lizette knew next to nothing ; for 
when a young man, he had gone into the 
States, and had remained there. On this 
particular day, as Lizette stood at the desk, 
her glance fell upon one of these letters. As 
much to divert her mind as from any motive 
of curiosity, she searched for all of them 
(there had only been five in twenty-three 
years), and resolved to read them. She first 
plunged her throbbing head into cold water, 
and unbraided the long, heavy hair, whose 
weight oppressed her, and then carried the 
letters out to the cool shadow of her favorite 
great rock at the door, that she might read 
them at her leisure. From the first, she 
made up her mind that her uncle had more 
affection for her father than her father had 


R 2igby Court . 


37 


ever had, or at least expressed for him. From 
the second, she inferred that he was, or had 
been, a teacher. In the third he wrote as if 
he were very much interested in natural his- 
tory. He spoke of Lizette in the fourth — 
asked her age, and said he would like to see 
his brother once more ; but it was the fifth 
and last letter that Lizette read and re-read, 
while a ray of light stole over her gloomy 
face, then was followed by a puzzled, thought- 
ful expression. She remembered that this 
letter came the week that her father died. 
He had read it only half through, and then, 
growing faint, he had told Lizette to put it 
away until he felt better. He did not think 
of the letter again before he died. It was 
dated from a town in Pennsylvania, and con- 
tained more personal information than the 
past epistles. Her uncle was evidently a 
married man now, if he had not been before ; 
and in conclusion, he had put down this invi- 
tation : “ Your daughter must be old enough 


33 


The Queer Home in 


to wish a glimpse of the world ; push her 
out of the nest, and we will take her into 
ours. Send her to me for a visit.” 

That was all, and it was written a year 
before. “ A glimpse of the world ! ” How 
much delight seemed summed up in that to 
Lizette ! How bright compared to its utter 
renunciation ! She drew a long, free breath, 
as if she saw a loop-hole in the walls closing 
about her. It was her first impulse to take 
the letter of her uncle to Father D’Hullin ; 
her second thought was merely to tell him 
that she had such a relative, and to see what 
his ideas would be in regard to a change 
which was not a change into a convent. 

Three weeks passed, and Lizette saw very 
little of Father D’Hullin. She heard through 
Maurice, of whom she saw almost as little, 
that his brother was about going into a dis- 
tant part of Canada, where he had been sent 
by his superiors in the Church, upon some 
ecclesiastical matters. In his absence, Father 


39 


Rugby Court . 

Vignon was to have the charge of his parish. 
One evening, in a hurried way, Lizette told 
Father D’Hullin all the contents of her uncle’s 
letters, and anxiously awaited his advice. He 
did not seem very well pleased, and, after a 
moment of silence, told her that her father 
had only very seldom spoken of this brother 
to him, and then, never as one in any way 
interested in the present life of himself or of 
Lizette ; that, if he remembered aright, he 
said that he was not a Catholic. At any rate, 
she could not, unannounced, present herself 
to him, with no idea of his disposition toward 
her, or his circumstances in life. Lizette, 
with the careless trust of youth, answered, 
that he seemed to be a good man, and it was 
probable that he still lived where he did a 
year before. She wished extremely that Fa- 
ther D’Hullin would try and find out some- 
thing more about him. This the priest prom- 
ised in good faith to do ; but delayed, by rea- 
son of his journey, and Lizette found the 


40 


The Queer Home in 


promise still unfulfilled, when one Sunday 
evening he bade her good-bye. 

However, she was relieved from immediate 
apprehension of being sent away, and in a 
day or two sank back calmly into the pleas- 
ant ease of her old life. Her first annoyance 
was the sudden strange conduct of old Jean, 
who, coming home one day from confession 
to Father Vignon, made known her intention 
of going to Quebec to take care of a sick 
son whom Father Vignon said needed her. 
Now, Jean's son had been sick for a year, 
and never had other care than his wife’s ; 
nevertheless, before Lizette had recovered 
from her surprise, Jean had stowed her 
worldly goods into a canvas bag, slung them 
over her shoulder, and departed without fur- 
ther ado. Lizette sat down to ponder upon 
this new turn of the wheel — to think if she 
wanted to live all alone, and if she could do 
so, if she wished. Consulting thus with her- 
self, she heard a gentle rap on the door, and 


4 1 


Rugby Court . 

rising quickly, let in Father Vignon and a 
Sister of Charity — a pleasant-voiced woman, 
the pure linen about whose face was scarcely 
whiter than that face itself. The priest had 
an unusual amount of suavity in his tones, 
and showed as much deference and ease as 
was possible, considering his back-bone. His 
errand was this : Sister Frances had come to 
the village rather unexpectedly, from the 
Quebec Nunnery. She had happened to hear 
of Lizette, and had been very much interest- 
ed in her. She (the Sister) was going a few 
miles down the river for three days; then she 
had again to stop here before her return to 
Quebec. Now, it had occurred to Father 
Vignon, that as old Jean had gone, and it was 
not best or proper for Lizette to live all 
alone — was, in fact, simply impossible for him 
to allow — it was just the most excellent time 
for her to visit a nunnery. In this way she 
would be cared for while Father D’Hullin 
was absent, and so unable to provide any 


42 


The Queer Home in 


person suitable for her companion and house- 
keeper. She certainly could have no objec- 
tion to spending a week or two in trying to 
overcome what might be merely a childish 
prejudice. Sister Frances would make her 
true happiness a study, and she could see for 
herself the attractions of a holy life. In short, 
the sum and substance of the whole harangue 
was to inform her that the Sister expected to 
take her back with her in three, days. Lizette 
stood speechless. Embarrassment flushed her 
face, then fear made it pale again. Would 
she be forced to be a nun? No ; but Father 
Vignon was setting cunning traps to catch her. 
If, with wide-open eyes, she took this first 
step in the way he pointed out, it was more 
than probable she would at last walk the 
whole way therein. However, the priest did 
not give her any chance to answer or state 
the object of his visit in the way of a pro- 
posal. He put it to her as an unexpected and 
delightful way out of a difficulty ; then, as 


43 


Rugby Court . 

was always his peculiarity, he assumed her 
full consent, and almost immediately excused 
himself, leaving the Sister behind. When 
his footsteps had quite ceased to be heard, 
Lizette turned toward her guest, whose eyes 
had scarcely been raised from the prayer- 
book she held in her quiet hands. Searching 
her face until she was certain it was not a sin- 
ister one, the young girl said : 

“ I wish I might be left to be what I always 
have been. I was contented.” 

“You will be more than contented with 
us,” began the Sister, in the old time-worn 
strain, getting so familiar to Lizette that it 
began to sound almost like cant. 

An incredulous shrug of Lizette’s shoulders 
arrested her, and she ceased, but looked at 
her not unkindly. They stood a moment in 
silence ; then Lizette, so full of life and vigor 
compared with her black-robed visitor, burst 
out with the question : 

“ Are you always happy there ? Don’t you 
ever long to be back in the world ? ” 


44 The Queer Home in 

“ I suffer, as I ought sometimes, for sins — 
in expiation of them ; but our blessed Saviour 
suffered. What are my sufferings to His ? 
One must bear the more here, if one would 
endure the less hereafter.” 

“ Well, I do believe I would rather bear it 
all at once, than begin Purgatory on this 
side.” 

The Sister sighed, as if half in sympathy, 
made a faint response, and then seemed to 
remember that it was her duty to look shock- 
ed ; but then it was too late. Indeed, Fa- 
ther Vignon would have thought her heart 
was not in her work ; for, instead of com- 
mending her vocation, she began to ask Li- 
zette questions about herself, her work, her 
life, her amusements ; simple enough ques- 
tions, yet the answers interested her much. 
It was as if her own existence was singularly 
bare of entertainment or novelty, as indeed 
it must have been, and that, in consequence, 
she craved a knowledge of some life different 
from her own monotonous one. But, after a 


Rugby Court. 


45 


time, she started, half affrighted at the curi- 
osity she had shown, and then dropped her 
hand caressingly on Lizette’s dark hair, say- 
ing: 

“ I may come again for you in three days, 
I suppose ? ” 

“ I have not decided to go.” 

“ Father Vignon said you certainly would 
— for a visit, of course.” 

“ What if I should refuse ? ” 

“ He did not think or speak of a refusal, 
and would be angry and — ” 

She did not end the sentence with any 
other word, only bade Lizette adieu, and 
glided away like a shadow between the pine- 
trees. 

Lizette paced back and forth in the little 
cabin, her brain quickened with excitement, 
her aversion toward the convent increased 
ten-fold, and a clear conviction that this was 
the crisis. Was there no way of escape out 
of the whole difficulty? None but flight. At 


46 


The Queer Home in 


this last thought, flashed suddenly into her 
mind the recollection of her uncle. She 
clasped her hands over her aching forehead, 
and tried to think if she dare dash out into 
the, to her, unknown world, and attempt to 
find him. Lizette had in her considerable 
rashness and much bravery ; and these quali- 
ties, united to great ignorance of all obstacles 
that might lie in the way, conspired together 
to bring her to a quick conclusion. Before 
another half hour had passed, she was mak- 
ing her plans to row her boat five miles down 
the river, at sunrise next day, and there, at a 
certain point where the steamboat stopped 
for wood, on its way to Quebec, she would 
go on board, and, unrecognized by strangers, 
make her journey toward Pennsylvania. At 
sunset she walked down to the shore, hoping 
to see Maurice, and was not disappointed. 
He wanted her to sit down on the rocks and 
have a long talk, as of old ; but she was far 
too restless to keep still. She wandered up 


47 


Rugby Court. 

and down before him, as he sat on a broken 
old row-boat ; finally, she came and stood by 
his side quietly. 

“ Maurice, when your brother comes home, 
wiil you tell him a message from me — or write 
it to him, if you are at college ? ” 

“ Why not tell it to him yourself? ” 

“Never mind why not! I have a good 
reason, Maurice. I don’t want to tell him 
myself, and please never tell any one but 
Father D’Hullin ! Do you promise ? ” 

“Yes, I promise, little Miss Mystery ; what 
is your secret ? ” 

“ Write him this , Maurice : ‘ Lizette said 
tell Father D’Hullin, if he wants to know, he 
must remember her father’s brother.” 

Maurice looked at her flushed face in grave 
surprise, or rather wonder ; then, with intui- 
tive refinement, he only said, “ I will certainly 
not forget.” 

“ I would explain, if I thought it best for 
you to know now, Maurice, just what I mean ; 


48 The Queer Home in 

but you will understand after a time. When 
are you going away ? ” 

“ In a few days, I suppose.” 

“ You have never traveled much more than 
I, have you ? But I suppose you could find 
your way around the world quite easily.” 

“ When I think of circumnavigating the 
globe, Lizette, I assure you I will need a lit- 
tle instruction, and perhaps a guide-book or 
two first,” laughed the boy, amused at her 
solemnity, for which he saw no reason. 

“ Would you know just how to go to — the 
States — well, to Pennsylvania , for instance ? ” 
she continued, not noticing, in her earnest- 
ness, his lightness of tone. 

“ Oh, certainly, Lizette.” 

“Tell me each step of the way, as if you 
were going.” 

Anything that Maurice knew at all, he knew 
thoroughly; and so, Lizette had soon all the 
necessary information she desired. She 
changed the subject of conversation adroitly 


Rugby Court. 


49 


when that end 'had been reached, and Mau- 
rice thought her curiosity purely aimless. 
After a while, ^she rose up to go home, with- 
out more ceremony than usual; then hesi- 
tating, she turned toward her friend, saying : 

“ Maurice, Father Vignon wants me to go 
for a visit to the nunnery, and to go day after 
to-morrow. I do not mean to, if I can help 
it ; however, something may occur that I 
shall not be able to see you again before 
you go, or in a long time ; so good-bye.” 

The tears rushed into her eyes as Maurice 
warmly grasped her outstretched hand. She 
laughed nervously, and tried to make a jest 
upon the old skating, fishing days, all gone 
by now. Maurice answered sadly: “ Yes, it 
is the same as parting forever ; ” then bend- 
ing a little, he kissed her on the forehead and 
cheek ; for the first time since they were chil- 
dren together. 

She looked up into his eyes, saying : 

“ I am so sorry, Maurice ! I don’t want 
4 


50 


The Queer Home in 


to go — to have you go. I begin to think this 
is not half so pleasant a world as it used to 
be.” 

“ My brother says all is for the best ; and 
both of us, perhaps, will find that out in the 
world, or even in the cloister — the best is not 
the happiest ; but if it is the best — enough ! ” 

She turned away then, and left him alone 
on the shore. Later in the evening, she 
gathered together her small possessions, put 
into her purse the long-hoarded money, and 
then threw herself down to rest with a very 
sore heart. The poor child was home-sick 
before leaving home. The little cabin was dear 
to her as a palace, and seemed to contain all 
comforts needful — of luxuries she knew little. 
There was another thought which all the time 
oppressed her. She tried to keep it in the 
background, but it continually took shape and 
threw its shadow into the many dark ones 
haunting her uncertain steps. Lizette was a 
conscientious and a very lovable, affectionate 


Rugby Court. 


5i 


girl ; but she was by no means a devout Cath- 
olic. She dreaded entering a convent, not 
from principle, but from pure love of her own 
liberty — “ love of the world,” as she honestly 
confessed, narrow as her world . may seem. 
She believed a nun’s life to be one of good- 
ness and great merit, and in refusing that life 
she felt convicted of sin. Her unenlightened 
conscience accused her of being a renegade 
from the Church. She trembled lest the 
Blessed Mother would no longer intercede 
for her ; she feared the saints above would 
look down upon and despise her. They had 
not loved ease and pleasure. They re- 
nounced it all to dwell apart in caves and 
deserts. At this, the troubled girl found her- 
self fancying she might be a recluse in that 
way alone with Nature; for she loved trees, 
rocks, woods, and rivers with whole-souled 
intensity. These were far different from con- 
vent “ walks around flower-beds ! ” Father 
Vignon ruined his case when he brought for- 


52 


The Queer Home in 


ward these attractions. Yet, as we have 
said, Lizette was troubled in doing what she 
had resolved to do. This night, until mid- 
night, she watched the stars through the 
cabin - window ; wondering how much the 
Powers above knew or cared for her. How 
severe would be the penalty she must suffer, 
if she followed the devices of her own heart ! 
Over and over she told her beads, as if to 
make up for future wrong-doing by present 
piety. “Perhaps,” she thought, with naive 
presumption, “ the saints are not so strict, 
after all, as the religious — the very religious 
down here. Maybe they remember how hard 
it was to be good ; and if they see me pray- 
ing ten times after this where I have once in 
the past, maybe — ” 

Maybe what Lizette could not exactly shape 
out clearly in thought ; but it was a dim com- 
fort she was framing for herself. Scores of 
Church legends floated through her brain as 
she mused thus, in that which was to her an 


Rugby Court . 


53 


hour of temptation, yet not once did she 
think simply of “ Him who was tempted like 
as we are, yet without sin.” By stretching 
out her hand in the darkness, she could lay it 
upon an emblem of Christ on the cross ; but 
the action would be nothing more than a hand 
of flesh touching tangible wood ; yet in these 
first hours of trial in Lizette’s life, she was 
soon to feel out after help and guidance. In 
the hour of darkness, in the gloom of ig- 
norance, did ever one feebly grope after light 
and the Light of the World not know it? 
The veil may linger a while over eyes too 
weak for sight ; but the blind shall be led by 
a way they know not ; darkness shall be 
made light before them, and crooked things 
straight. 


III. 


“ Think you a little din can daunt my ears ? And do you 
tell me of a woman’s tongue ? ” — Shakespeare. 

There is no quainter, quieter, more home- 
like city in the Union than old, highly-re- 

spectable N . The dwellings are set far 

back in velvety lawns ; the broad streets are 
shaded by old trees, and here and there 
one finds an ivy-draped church, as charmingly 
ancient in aspect as if it did not belong to 
this new country. Even down among the 
shops and warehouses business goes on in a 
sober, cleanly sort of a way, as if there was 
time enough in every day for every day’s 
work. Out of one of the principal new thor- 
oughfares runs a narrow street between two 
rows of warehouses. You follow it down 
rapidly-descending ground, around a sudden 
turn, and into a roomy court . Do not let 

( 54 ) 


Rugby Court . 


55 


that word call up a picture of squalid tene- 
ments, foul gutters, swine, gamin , and beg- 
gars. No. Rugby Court was, and perhaps 
still is, an oasis in the busiest part of the town. 
It held in its center a beautiful triangular 
grass-plat and a funny old fountain. The 
grass was not kept close-cropped, but throve 
lustily, as it does in country lanes, nestling 
up lovingly in its bosom ox-eyed daisies and 
yellow dandelions. The fountain itself had 
once been finer, but it was pretty yet; al- 
though the nymph, who should be daintily 
poised with a long-necked vase on her head, 
had fallen half down, breaking her vase, and 
letting the sparkling water gurgle over her 
white feet instead. Around the grass ran 
a grand walk, then a row of elm-trees, 
then the street, then a second elm-row 
interlacing its topmost boughs with the 
first, and forming a perfect arbor over the 
pavement below. As for the houses that 
encircled the entire court, they had that mel- 


56 


The Queer Home in 


low, grandmotherly look of age that precedes 
the first sighs of decay. The best were not 
spruce, but very comfortable ; the poorest 
were tidily poor, with green blinds half shut, 
and an extra polish on the brass door-knock- 
ers. The sunshine everywhere sifted through 
the elms onto old-time, small window-panes, 
and where the windows were open, one could 
see ancient furniture ; tall mantel-pieces, high- 
post beds, and narrow mirrors in carefully- 
kept, odd old frames. 

Pacing slowly under these same elms, one 
summer afternoon, was a young girl, anx- 
iously studying each house she passed. A 
certain peculiarity about her dress and bear- 
ing — or it may have been the troubled expres- 
sion of her tired yet most attractive face- 
made more than one person gaze curiously 
after her. It was our Lizette, who had reach- 
ed the town, where she supposed her uncle 
to live, and was now searching out the street 
and number of his house. We shall not take 


Rugby. Court . 


5 ; 


time to trace, in detail, her previous journey ; 
fortunately for such an inexperienced trav- 
eler, it had been most uneventful. She had 
kept her wits on the alert, showed no undue 
nervousness before strangers, asked timely 
questions only of officials, and so conducted 
herself under all circumstances that good 
sense, self - reliance, and shrewdness had 
brought her in due time to her journey’s end. 

Until the hour of her arrival in V , she 

had been under too constant excitement to 
picture to herself what might be her recep- 
tion upon actually meeting her uncle. Now, 
when possibly so near him, she was suddenly 
overwhelmed by fear, shame, timidity, and 
home-sickness. For the first time she real- 
ized what she had entered upon, and she was 
tempted to throw herself on the mercy of 
some one of whom she had never heard, 
rather than to present herself before this 
stranger-relative. But dismissing the wild 
idea, she quickened her steps, in feverish haste 


5§ 


The Queer Home in 


to have her doubts dispelled or her fears 
confirmed. Over the gate of a house such 
as we have mentioned was a ticket, “Rooms 
to let ,” and on the gate leaned an old man. 
Lizette took in at a glance his neat, shabby 
dress, white hair, and kindly face. He held 
a kitten in his arm, and softly stroked its fur. 

“ Can you show me the house of Jason 
Bernard ? ” asked Lizette, with a certain 
French accentuation of the English words. 

“ Bernard ? Miss ! ” repeated the old 
man, a transient surprise embarrassing him a 
moment before he hastened with homely po- 
liteness to answer : “ Certainly. It is the one 
yonder — where you see upper windows 
open.” 

Lizette thanked him, and went on. 

“ The Podkins' house you mean,” he called 
after her pleasantly. 

She looked back perplexed. 

“ You said Bernard. Well, it is about the 
same ! Go on, Miss — you are right.” 


Rugby Court. 59 

The house indicated had a more wide- 
awake, less dignified air than the others, and 
one side leaned and gave a tip to the oppo- 
site gable ; but a most luxuriant Virginia 
creeper draped all angles, doors, windows, 
and porches, so as to cover with an exquisite 
mantle all architectural lines. 

Lizette’s hand trembled and her heart beat, 
first fast, and then seemed to flutter, until she 
felt fainter at every step toward her uncle’s 
door. She reached it, lifted the knocker, and 
let it fall, with the thought: “Perhaps the 
convent was the place for me.” 

“Who can that be knocking? Open the 
door somebody,” whispered a loud voice with- 
in. “Never mind how you look, Billy.” 

The door suddenly opened. No Billy was 
to be seen — only the flutter of an old apron 
and a patched boot vanishing through an- 
other door. A woman sat in the hall, serenely 
gazing at Lizette, and beckoned her to enter, 
when she hesitated. She was of middle age, 


6o 


The Queer Home in 


rather fleshy, with shining bead-black eyes, 
rosy cheeks, and yellowish-gray hair, com- 
pactly done up in little pink curl-papers. She 
laid off her lap a big volume, and arose from 
a low rocking-chair, displaying, the while, a 
most remarkable costume. A turkey-red cal- 
ico curtain, with a gorgeous orange-colored 
lining, enveloped her from neck to foot, and 
was laced about her with its heavy cords and 
tassels, letting the surplus folds and fringes 
trail behind her. With an ease and volubility 
impossible-to describe, she began to talk, be- 
fore Lizette could utter a word. 

“ It was always just so as far back as my 
memory goes. I never get so exhausted that 
I must sit down and recuperate my spent 
energies, but I am surprised, as now, in some 
unearthly kind of a dress. Unearthly, but 
not one bit celestial, as you would say, if you 
dared. I have been sweeping all day, and the 
dust does permeate one’s good clothes so, 
guard against it as one may, that as a precau* 


6i 


Rugby Court. 

tionary measure — not from any notion they 
were becoming (I never wear red) — I just 
wrapped these curtains around me, as they are 
down to be washed, and, as I said, I sat down 
to recuperate. Some medical authorities ad- 
vise a ten-minutes’ -nap when you are working ; 
they say it does wonders for the muscle — 
‘ Nature’s sweet restorer,’ you know; but I 
drop down anywhere, and dip into a book. 
People say I revel in books — I do believe I 
do — history, poetry, prose, biography, but not 
memoirs. They are all bad, morbid, intro- 
spective analysis and self- dissection — un- 
healthy — abnormal. What would you like, 
Miss ?-” 

“To see Mr. Jason Bernard,” faltered Li- 
zette, in complete bewilderment, and backing 
off a little as she recollected a lunatic of her 
acquaintance, similarly gifted in the conversa- 
tional line. 

“ Oh, it is out of the question, dear ! He is 
mounting a most lovely white owl — beautiful 


62 The Queer Home in 

creature! You would not have the heart to 
disturb him if you knew how happy he is in 
such an occupation. I am his wife. Won’t I 
do as well ? It is a simple principle, you 
know, that one half equals the other half — - 
try me.” 

Lizette made known her relationship, some- 
what of her history, the reason of her visit, 
and a word or two in regard to her uncle’s 
letter of invitation. 

“ Jason’s niece! Well, I am amazed! You 
look no more like Jason than a peach-blossom 
does like the Grand Canjandoram ! Came from 
below Quebec ! I thought there was nothing 
there but papists, pappooses, half-breed In- 
dians, and salmon trout. I am fond of fish 
though, right fond of them. I have heard they 
were not considered strictly healthy by medi- 
cal men ; certain constitutions are apt to run 
to boils after indulgence in fish to any great 
extent ; but then again, their phosphorus feeds 
the brain, as has been proved by science. And 


Rtigby Court . 


63 


Fm sure if it gets to be a choice betwen boils 
and brains, or neither, what simpleton would 
hesitate to have both ? I have not made 
that clear, but I saw a moment ago just what 
I meant. No, daughter, you can’t see Jason 
now ; but make yourself at home right away. 
You are welcome as rain in strawberry time. 
He will be down to tea. You have eight 
cousins; a modern Cornelia I call myself 
whenever I look at my jewels. But, come to 
think, they are not your cousins, except Mar- 
jory — the rest are my first husband’s. I was 
a widow, you know, when I married Jason. 
Come up to your room, dear ! Our supper 
will be ready soon. Now you have come, it 
will be ready sooner than if I had kept on 
reading. Festina lente is the motto of this 
house. We all make haste slowly. Lizette is 
your name? Pretty — call me Aunt Sab or 
Sabby, short for Sabrina. There, come — I 
will send for you by and by.” 

Lizette, patted on each shoulder by Aunt 


64 


The Queer Home in 


Sabby’s fat hands, smiled at as lovingly as if 
she had been a long-expected guest, was led 
up to a queer, big room, and shut in ; first 
being bidden again to make herself at home, 
and get rested. In this room no two articles 
of furniture belonged to the same set, yet a 
certain half-defiant and very positive cheer- 
fulness everywhere prevailed. The great, 
white dimity bed-curtains waved in and out 
in a wandering breeze. The sunshine played 
on pictured wreaths of pink roses winding all 
over the wall-paper ; and on the high, black 
mantel-piece were gilded flower-pots full of 
white lilies, plucked from the old-fashioned gar- 
den, which Lizette could both see and smell, 
below her windows. No lady’s boudoir, gor- 
geous with modern upholstery, could have 
looked more enchanting to the tired little 
traveler. Then her reception, ridiculous as 
it may have seemed, had been calculated to 
put Lizette at ease ; for Aunt Sabby appear- 
ed to take her in as if it were the most natu- 


65 


Rugby Court . 

ral thing in the world to have her husband’s 
relatives drop down at any hour of the day 
and propose to stay indefinitely. It was with 
a heart at ease, for the first time in weeks, 
that Lizette sank into a big, chintz chair, and 
listening to the patter of the fountain, just 
audible here, took a quite unexpected nap. 
She awoke refreshed, to look about her, in 
momentary surprise, before adding a few 
freshening touches to her dress. This done, 
she was thinking whether or not to seek her 
aunt, when the door swung slowly open, and 
a little girl stood framed there ; a child with 
a very dark, round face and beautiful, soft 
eyes, the whole half shaded by a big white 
sunbonnet. She carried in one hand a huge 
bunch of blush roses, with which she hid that 
part of her pretty face the bonnet did not 
cover. Lizette sprang forward and took the 
one plump hand which was outstretched as if 
its owner was to be her guide. 

“ My little cousin, are you ? And how old 
— about seven, I think ? ” 


66 


The Queer Home in 


The downcast lids covered the dark eyes 
so persistently, yet so coquettishly, Lizette 
caught the little beauty and gave roses and 
child a hearty hug. She looked up then with 
a low, peculiar laugh, but did not tell her 
name, or answer by as much as a word any 
question. She only led Lizette down an odd, 
winding staircase into an odder dining-room. 
And now let it be said once for all, that sel- 
dom was a house so queer in its domestic 
economy and arrangements as this abode of 
Aunt Sabby's. ' It was everywhere exquisite- 
ly neat and very pleasant ; but there were 
beds in halls, bookcases in bed - rooms ; in 
the dining-room a spinning-wheel and an old- 
fashioned harpsichord ; while in the kitchen 
she kept a mangel, a melodeon, house-plants, 
bird-cages, a newspaper rack, and a great 
embroidered fire-screen to put between her- 
self and the stove, when she sat down to 
“recuperate” while the pot boiled. Jason 
Bernard was an old bachelor when he mar- 
ried Aunt Sabby Podkins, who was a widow 


67 


Rugby Court . 

with seven boys. She owned this house and 
some property besides. Her present hus- 
band had boarded with her for seventeen 
years, and, as may be supposed, was thor- 
oughly acquainted with her. Aunt Sabby 
had common sense, plenty of it ; but it was 
her uncommon sense that impressed people 
most strongly at first. She read anything 
from a hymn-book to a treatise on turnips, 
and whatever went in « by reading came out 
by talking. Such a member as Aunt Sabby 
possessed — unruly f She never dreamed of 
rules for it; yet it rarely scolded, never slan- 
dered, said many funny things, and more 
comforting ones ; so everybody let it wag. 
She humored all Jason’s whims, trained the 
children well, and always strove to act con- 
scientiously. She might have looked more 
like other people if she had not worn year 
after year her old-fashioned finery, which 
never wore out. But when once the neigh- 
bors found that her feet were tireless in their 


68 


The Queer Home in 


sad days of sickness and sorrow, they let her 
do her errands of mercy in pink kid slippers, 
if it pleased her so to do. That afternoon 
Lizette came into the dining-room, feeling for 
the moment almost awkward, and like a 
strange intruder ; but Aunt Sab gave her an- 
other friendly shake, rushed her into a seat at 
the long table, spread with tempting viands, 
helped her bountifully — all the time introduc- 
ing her to (as it seemed to Lizette) innumer- 
ble boys assembling from all quarters. 

“ The red-haired one there is Dick, and 
Jackey is the fat one. Tom you can always 
tell by a bump or a bruise somewhere — to- 
day it is a black eye ; but not from fighting. 
Billy is the boy who opened the door for you 
and run because he was washing dishes in 
my calico apron ; and this blessed little grass- 
hopper is Theophilus Claude ! The name is 
too big for him ; but you see after I had got 
to him I remembered the family dignity just 
in time to save it. There I had got ‘Tom, 


Rugby Court . 


69 


Dick, and Harry/ a poor combination ; so 
I did my duty by Theophilus. Harry and 
Fred are my big boys and are away to-day.” 

Lizette cast a hasty glance about the board, 
secretly hopeless about ever knowing which 
was which, unless that “ which ” happened to 
be “Theop,” as the boys called him. They 
were bright, manly lads ; like organ pipes, 
each one a little taller than the next ; but he 
was small, hollow-eyed, long-headed, a verit- 
able little old gentleman at ten years of age. 
Next, Aunt Sabby made a dive at Marjory, 
as she lovingly pointed out the fact to Lizette 
that this was really her own cousin, saying : 
“ Is not she a beautiful, great child for seven 
years? She is mother’s blessing! Yes, 
Marjory is ! ” and suddenly depositing her 
tea-pot on the floor (the salver being over- 
crowded), Aunt Sabby snapped at and kissed 
the little girl ; just as suddenly letting her 
go to shake her fist at the great, sleek fami- 
ly cat, who had suddenly appeared on the 


70 


The Queer Home in 


scene with four kittens. “Scat there, puss! 
You’ll burn your tail! Move along, Tom, 
you crowd my elbows at the table. Theop, 
run and tell your pa tea is ready. Tell him 
that owl will keep, and we have got something 
nicer to show him. Yes, my Margie is worth 
a dozen boys, and they admit it — Little Beau- 
ty as she is, and my joy ! ” 

Not a flush of vanky deepened the pink on 
the little girl’s soft cheek at this, as Lizette 
thought, unwise talk ; only watching her 
mother’s expression, a gentle smile half-part- 
ed her rosy little lips. 

“ She does not talk much, does she ? ” 

“ Talk? dear heart ! Mine is a little dumb 
angel. She never hears mother tell her how 
she loves her ; but she knows it. Don’t you, 
love ? Where is my tea-pot ? Oh, scat, you 
beast ! Don’t you know any better than to 
burn your ribs on a hot tea-pot because you 
happen to have a chance ? ” And Aunt Sab- 
by rescued her silver just as Theop returned 


7i 


Rugby Court. 

leading his father by the hand, looking as if 
he had meekly surrendered to a demand not 
yet comprehended in all its bearings. 

“ Pa,” she broke out, “ Fve got another 
daughter.” 

Jason’s clear gray eyes rested upon Aunt 
Sabby in mild surprise. 

“ Isn’t it grand,” she continued. “ Now you 
won’t quite spoil Marjory. Here she is : Li- 
zette, your brother’s daughter — walked right 
in upon us from Quebec ; pass her another 
biscuit, Fred — I mean Jack.” 

By and by Uncle Jason understood matters 
and gave Lizette as hearty, sincere, and une- 
quivocal a welcome as her imagination had 
ever pictured. He was very tall, thin, and 
slow, wore green glasses, green broadcloth, 
and was Aunt Sabby’s opposite in every par- 
ticular. He had been a school teacher, but 
now had given his attention to the harmless 
occupation of bug-hunting, butterfly-collect- 
ing, and bird-mounting. He was as precise 


The Queer Home in 


72 

and concise in conversation as his wife was 
loquacious, which, for convenience sake, was 
the best possible arrangement of matters. 

That night, when Lizette sank into her soft 
bed, she drew a long sigh of contentment. 
Only for the novel enjoyment of the whole, it 
seemed to her she must have known these 
people for years. She turned on her pillow 
and drew little Marjory closer to her, in a 
new happiness at having her first pet and 
plaything. The moonlight falling through 
the small glass pane, danced over the floor 
to the trembling shadows of the elm-trees. 
Without, the crickets were holding high car- 
nival, and an envious frog by the fountain 
was croaking at their folly. Lizette, dreamily 
listening, fell out of a delicious weariness, fast 
asleep, and her after-dreams might well have 
been pleasant, for the homeless orphan had 
opened a door over which was the invisible 
motto : 

“ Peace on earth and good-will to men.” 


Rugby Court. 73 

If there was inside this outer circle of home 
love and happiness, a wheel within a wheel, 
Lizette had yet to learn it ; thus far, to the 
girl it seemed an earthly Paradise. 


IV. 


“ His eye begets occasion for his wit ; and every object 
that the one doth catch, the other turns to a ^lirth-moving 
jest.” — Shakespeare. 

The crooked house in Rugby Court was, 
as Lizette very soon found out, pervaded by 
a have - your - own - way, take-your-o wn- time 
sort of a spirit, wisely guided by much gen- 
erosity and good-nature. Aunt Sabby’s bak- 
ing, washing, and ironing days never corre- 
sponded with those of the neighbors ; but 
there was nevertheless an order, comfort, and 
hospitality in all her doings. She kept no 
servants ; but each child was drilled into a co- 
operative system of housekeeping, which fell 
lightly upon the individual, yet in the end was 
satisfactory in its results. Aunt Sabrina used 
to say : “ If I had seven daughters, wouldn’t 
I expect them to work ? And if a body’s girls 

( 74 ) 


Rugby Court. 


75 


are mostly boys, can any one tell a good rea- 
son why they should not work as well ? The 
idea ! I’ll bring mine up to be husbands 
worth having.” 

Harry, her oldest son, the champion ball- 
player, and the best mathematician of his class, 
could cook a breakfast with skill and success. 
Dick had swept and dusted ever since he was 
tall enough to struggle with the broomstick. 
Fred had made bread. Tom had made fires 
and darned stockings for years ; while lazy, 
fat Jack had been Marjory’s nurse-boy ever since 
she was born until she ceased to need him. 
This little Marjory was “ my lady ” to every 
one of them. Whatever was sweet and dainty 
must be hers : flowers, fruit, treats, pets, and 
general exemption from unpleasant work. 
Each roistering, rolly-poly brother of hers 
had deep down within him a kind of tender 
reverence for the little silent sister — a resolve 
ever moving them to action, to make life a 
long holiday for her. Whether this was 


;6 


The Queer Home in 

wise 'or not, Margie seemed to develop well 
under the treatment. She would help them 
work, dabbling her wee hands in the dish- 
water ; sometimes letting big dishes slip out 
unseen and break with a crash, which she, in 
her perfect deafness, never heard — innocently 
smiling over the pan, while Aunt Sabby mut- 
tered : 

“Lack-a-day! What has she done now? 
The pink tureen gone to grief ; well, hustle it 
out of the way before she sees ; it most 
breaks her heart when she does such things 
and knows it.” 

Margie was never selfish, but shared her 
titbits with a one-eyed puppy, five kittens, 
and twenty white mice. It may be she had 
no temptations to ill-temper ; yet no one ever 
saw her angry. Tom, Dick, and Harry would 
rush at her in dark halls, catch her in door- 
ways, tumble, toss, kiss, and hug her like 
bears — roll flowers, kittens, and all into one 
rosy, rumpled mass ; and when they set her 


Rugby Court. 


77 


down almost breathless, she would flutter, coo, 
and settle her plumage, like a dove just out 
of a hurricane. She was always tripping 
about to find her mother’s spectacles and false 
teeth, which was no easy and infrequent task. 
She delighted to surprise people with funny 
new pincushions and needle-books. All day 
long she flitted about the queer, sunshiny 
rooms, decorating them with flowers, as if for 
some fete. She loved to play on the old 
cracked harpsichord, whose music was noth- 
ing to her, and whose discord was dreadful 
for the rest, yet not one of them ever told 
her to stop. Often she would stand a long 
time before the mirrors, beckoning, smiling, 
moving her dumb lips to the no less silent 
child within. Aunt Sabby used to keep her 
in very gay dresses, low, square-necked, with 
tight sleeves, full frilled at the elbow, with 
skirts just clearing her small slippers. Her 
mother really knew nothing about modern 
fashions, so Marjory had just the look of a 


78 


The Queer Home in 


charming little brunette on a Dresden china 
vase. Her father’s room was her favorite 
haunt, and there she was always welcome, 
for she was the pride of Jason’s life. He 
never allowed a Podkins (Theophilus ex- 
cepted) over his threshold ; for with the best 
possible intentions of behaving well, the boys 
broke his butterflies, trod on foreign bugs, sat 
down on his bottles, and, in general, made 
nuisances of themselves ; but Marjory was 
his, and, like him, careful. She hovered 
lightly over his beautiful humming-birds ; she 
clasped her hands in surprise over every ad- 
dition to the ranks of his ugly, sprawling 
beetles, whose individuality she recognized as 
easily as did Jason. 

One day not very long after Lizette’s arri- 
val, Aunt Sabby went away to spend the 
morning in collecting money to pay the rent 
for a certain poor family, in which she was 
much interested. She dressed herself, while 
she paraded the house and laid out the day’s 


Rugby Court. 


79 


campaign for the “ infantry ” she was to leave 
behind. Having arrayed herself in a green 
Turk-satin dress, and a rich, but antique velvet 
mantilla, she went away, with an affectionate 
appeal to them at the last, not to pull the roof 
down before she returned. Lizette saw her 
as she went down the street carrying a length 
of new stove-pipe under her arm ; she wished 
to change it, and always economized time 
when she did go out, by doing a variety of 
errands. Soon after the gate had shut be- 
hind her, Fred, aged sixteen, rushed into the 
dining-room to Harry, the oldest son and 
the young man of the family. 

“ I say, Hal, this is just the meanest kick- 
up yet ! ” 

“ What kick-up — what ails the lad ? ” quoth 
handsome Harry, patronizingly, putting down 
the morning paper and glancing at his onyx 
sleeve-buttons. 

“ Oh, the whole college class are going off 
for a rowing match on the river, and here it is 


8o 


The Queer Home in 


bread morning ! The sponge is light, and 
would be as sour as swill if I left it half an 
hour. I never thought to tell mother, or I 
suppose she would have mixed the nasty- 
stuff for me before she went.” And poor 
Fred’s homely face was rueful to look at. 

“ So your bread is nasty stuff, is it?” put 
in Billy, who was clearing the breakfast-table. 
“ Glad to find it out. I’ll eat crackers after 
this.” 

“ Shut up, you snipe,” retorted Fred, wrath- 
fully. 

“ I know how Jean used to make her bread, 
but it was not much like your mother’s kind,” 
said Lizette, hesitatingly. 

“ I’d like to try some Canadian bread,” 
said Fred, cunningly, his face a little brighter. 

Then Harry spoke ; he was not very do- 
mestic in his tastes, and he had a plan for 
spending his time that morning ; but he re- 
membered friendly services of Fred’s render- 
ing, and so said, yawning: “Mother don’t 


Rugby Court. 


like experiments, but if Dick or Billy can give 
a hint now and then, may be I can run your 
bread through this time. Clear out, and do 
as much for me sometime." 

Fred “ cleared ,” with a war-whoop of joy 
and gratitude. Not, however, without a 
twinge in his conscience ; for he knew Har- 
ry’s self-reliance was sometimes superior to 
his ability, and he (Fred) might be betraying 
trust reposed in him. 

Little Theophilus, who had the earache, 
sat with both his ears stopped up with cot- 
ton. He solemnly removed this and asked 
what the matter was ; having been told, he 
delivered himself thus : “ Harry has a right to 
make Fred’s bread, if only they two had to 
eat it ; but if it dont riz , it won’t be good, 
and nine more folks have got to suffer for it, or 
eat baker’s, which I don’t like. That is what 
mar means when she says : ‘ Bear each oth- 
er’s burdens as often as you like, only don’t be 
shouldering loads to be a failin’ off and bruis- 


82 


The Queer Home in 


in’ folks that hasn’t taken the (Theophilus 
stopped and gasped before the word) respon- 
sibility.' " 

“ Oh, Confucius!” said Dick, the scamp 
of the family. “What wisdom! Theoppy, 
that poor old white owl pa has been stuf- 
fing looks so lonesome ; you go and stand 
on one leg opposite him ! ” 

Theophilus blinked mournfully, and with- 
out the least resentment stopped up* his ears 
again. In the meantime Harry had taken off 
his coat, necktie, collar, and cuffs, and was wan- 
dering about in search of something to keep 
the flour off his pants and vest. Marjory’s 
quick eyes followed him, and a second after, 
she gave him, with her little gurgle of a 
laugh, a calico dress of her mother’s. With- 
out any demur, he donned it, and started for 
the kitchen, with a train of followers. Lizette 
began to wipe dishes at one table and Billy 
to iron at another ; the other boys went qui- 
etly about their work in other parts of the 


83 


Rugby Court . 

house, with the exception of Dick, who was 
off duty. He seated himself upon the churn 
to jeer at and to instruct his brother. Now 
the absent Fred was a famous bread-maker, 
and this same Dick here present could, in an 
emergency, do almost as well ; but an imp of 
mischief entered into him on this particular oc- 
casion, and, while he did not actually advise 
Harry wrongly in any one instance, all the ri- 
diculous-suggestions given misled him entirely. 
Harry sailed majestically around the kitchen, 
the pink calico skirt sweeping back from his 
long legs while he collected flour, pans, milk, 
and all the accessories of his art — or what he 
considered such. These included soda, spice, 
and a bottle of some flavoring extract. This 
done, he poured his yeast into a pan of flour, 
and asked what he should do next. He gath- 
ered from the oracular utterances of the red- 
headed youth on the churn, that he was to 
mix it all together. This he did, constantly 
stirring in flour and asking if that was right. 


8 4 


The Queer Home in 


“ Oh, yes,” said Dick encouragingly ; “ as 
Virgilius says, just before he kills his daugh- 
ter, ‘ My little girl, there is no way but this.’ ” 
“ I suppose so ; but about how much flour 
does the thing take ? It is getting rather 
hard to manage,” remarked Harry, wildly 
tossing his head to keep his hair out of his eyes. 

Dick arose on the churn and took a side- 
way leer at the exceedingly stiff mixture. 
“True,” he soliloquized, “bread is the staff 
of life ; but even a staff is better to bend be- 
fore it breaks.” 

“ It must want water or milk, then,” said 
Harry, innocently. “ There, it is limbered 
up considerably by that dose,” and he put 
down the dipper. “ Do I beat, or stir, or 
what do I do with it now ? ” 

Dick smothered down a shout as he looked 
at the sticky, “limbered up” mass in the 
bread-pan. “ May be you had better re- 
member the three qualifications for oratory : 
Action ! Action ! Action / ” 


Rugby Court . 


85 


Dick stood up again and regarded the pan 
from a height, adding, “Jumble it up lively 
now with your fists.” 

Harry was a grand boxer ; so in perfect 
good faith, he squared off and hit out, slap- 
ping the compound flat against the pan, and, 
to a limited extent, replastering the kitchen 
wall. 

“ Dear me, I’m wasting it. I didn’t sup- 
pose it would give so ! ” 

“We never made bread that way in Cana- 
da,” said Lizette to Billy. 

Billy looked from Harry’s earnest face to 
Dick’s, grim with preternatural gravity, and 
formed a private opinion ; but he only winked 
and went on with his ironing, pulling out a 
ruffle as deftly as possible. 

“ Perhaps it wants — something else — soda 
or salt,” said Harry, sighing. “ What do you 
think, Dick ? ” 

“ Well — yes — a little salt will make it keep, 
if that is desirable.” 


86 


The Queer Home in 


“ Keep ! Don’t you suppose it is all right ? 
I aint doing this for fun, I can tell you ! What 
if it shouldn’t be good ? ” 

“ Then go down and cast thy bread upon 
the waters — maybe, if it aint too heavy to float, 
Fred will see that it gets back to you to-day.” 

Dick’s treachery began to be revealed. 
Harry opened the kitchen-door and ejected 
him heels-over-head, and threw a dipper of 
water after him ; then he called a council of 
the more sedate part of the family : Lizette, 
Marjory, and Theophilus. The other boys 
honestly avowed they did not know anything 
about it. So four gathered soberly around, 
and contemplated the dough. 

“ It ought to look soft and spongy,” said 
Lizette, “but it does not. It is just like put- 
ty, and there isn’t any life to it.” 

“Well, I’ve knocked it hard enough to kill 
it. Say, what would you do with it, Theop ? ” 
and the six-foot brother picked up the child 
and held him over it, threateningly. 


87 


Rugby Court . 

Theophilus never spoke without thought, 
so, after a pause of suspense in the air, he 
said : 

“ I’d let it alone. It looks as if it had had 
too much done to it already.” 

Pretty Marjory made a w r ry face, and point- 
ed to the swill-pail ; then she darted off and 
returned with her father, who carried a cotton 
wet with ether in one hand, and a lively bug 
of some sort in the other. He heard a state- 
ment of the case, and then spoke like a phi- 
losopher ; while the bug did its best to get 
into the bread, but was sharply watched by 
Margie. 

“ What did you intend to do first ? ” asked 
Uncle Jason. 

“To put yeast into the bread and let it 
rise,” said Harry, kicking his boots free from 
the inconvenient calico trail. 

“ Is the yeast in it ? ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Have you given it time to rise ? ” 


88 


The Queer Home in 


“No, sir.” 

“ Why don’t you, then ? ” 

So saying, Uncle Jason looked calmly at 
the dough, and tenderly at the bug, and went 
back, thinking: 

“How queer it is, when people know 
how to do a thing, they don’t do it 
rightly. Cooking is the simplest of pro- 
cesses : always given the right proportions 
of good material and with the proper temper- 
ature, the result of any culinary experiment 
must be success.” To tell a tale out of 
school, Uncle Jason proposed some time to 
write a Cook-Book. They gave the bread 
time to rise, and it obstinately refused to im- 
prove its time, quite as if it had been human. 
All other matters about the house went on 
smoothly. The dinner was well cooked and 
well served ; while every room had been put 
in order long before, and Billy’s ironing was 
out of the way. In the afternoon, the bread 
looked flatter than ever, j and the council of 


8 9 


Rugby Court. 

four again met, and resolved not to bake it at 
all ; then Harry and Lizette repaired to the 
cool piazza to read together a French book. 
Marjory and Theophilus were pasting pict- 
ures onto card-board, and a general peace- \ 
fulness brooded over the sometimes noisy 
house. About three o’clock, Aunt Sabby, 
flushed and panting with exercise, opened the 
gate and came up to drop exhausted into the 
rocking-chair, which Marjory ran and brought 
for her. She had been seated but a few 
minutes when Dick appeared, bearing what 
Lizette recognized as something draped in 
white, on the long bread-board. The air of 
mingled awe and melancholy with which he 
dropped the ghastly burden at Aunt Sabby’s 
feet, not less than his mysterious whisper: 

“ What shall be done with this cold, clammy 
body ? ” scared the poor woman half out of 
her easily scattered wits. 

Dick was so out and out queer ; he was al- 
most capable of announcing some brother’s 
death in this manner. 


9 o 


The Queer Home in 


“ The vital power has gone forever,” he 
continued sepulchrally ; “ gone from this 

cold form that has set by our fireside ! This 
form watched so tenderly! To what an emi- 
nence did we look for it to rise ; but the 
dream of hope is past — ” 

The disgust that began to struggle through 
Aunt Sabby’s first horror, totally demoralized 
the orator, and he fizzled out thus (dropping 
in a giggling heap by the side of the “ body ”) : 
“ It sat, and sat, and would have sat by that 
fireside until doomsday without rising — and 
we all standing up around it too. Let us 
hope in some future state it will be better- 
bred.” 

This horrible old pun brought Aunt Sab 
to her full senses ; she snatched the cloth off 
her bread-board and boxed Dick’s ears. 

Harry and Lizette in remorse and laughter 
explained the trouble ; while the mother poked 
the dubious mass with her parasol handle in 
increasing indignation. Dick sat and shook 


9i 


Rugby Court . 

with silent laughter, and Theop gazed at him 
with equally silent disapproval. Yes, Aunt 
Sabby scolded right heartily. She said, if 
Fred had been too careless to make arrange- 
ments beforehand for his own pleasure, he 
must forego, or rather should have foregone 
his treat and stood at his post. “ And don’t 
you know, Harry, that while it may be very 
good-natured in you to try to help your 
brother out of trouble, it is not benevolence 
to shoulder responsibility you can not carry ? ” 
“ I said that, mar,” interposed Theophilus. 
“As for you, Richard Podkins, I supposed 
you knew perfectly well how to make good 
bread ; but, as it seems you have forgotten, 
we will have you taught over again. Fred 
may have a vacation, and you will make bread 
the rest of the summer.” 

Dick groaned this time, with evident sin- 
cerity, but rallied sufficiently to ask, as he 
took away the bier, if anybody would attend 


92 The Queer Home in Rugby Court. 

the wake, in case he was at the expense of 
whisky and candles, to get up a nice one. 

“Go away,” said Aunt Sabby, severely; 
“you are always making light of serious 
matters.” He went ; just taking time to look 
reproachfully at the dough, and declare he 
hadn’t made light of it, and that was just 
the reason it turned out badly. 


V. 


“ Oh, that men should put any enemy into 
Their mouths, to steal away their brains ! ” 

• — Shakespeare. 

Before coming to Rugby Court, Lizette 
had lived so perfectly monotonous a life, that 
every simple family custom, every show of 
character was of fresh interest to her. She 
seemed, for the first weeks, to be all eyes and 
ears. She did not ask many questions, but 
each object of interest made its sharp impress 
on her mind. Once or twice she reproved 
herself for too much curiosity, and resolved 
to be less observant. The reason for this 
self-reproach was that, now and then she had 
a certain half-defined feeling that there was 
something indeed very queer about this house- 
hold — something she had not yet got hold of ; 

perhaps it was not intended that she should. 

(93) 


94 


The Queer Home in 


She was sure that this intangible “ some- 
thing ” of her thoughts was to the child-half 
of the family nothing. She wondered fre- 
quently if she understood her quiet Uncle Ja- 
son or even loquacious Aunt Sabrina; once 
or twice she found herself musing on their 
relations to one another. She, however, 
never lost her first correct impressions of 
them : that they were very unlike, yet that 
this unlikeness was no impediment to their 
mutual love. Aunt Sabby was full of bustling 
cares for his comfort — for what he should 
eat, drink, and wherewithal he should be 
clothed ; while he, in a literal, if not a spirit- 
ual sense, was of all this as careless as the 
lilies of old ; but, when he found his comfort 
so secured, he was extremely grateful. lie 
was, in intellect, Aunt Sabby’s superior, yet he 
never laughed at her absurdities or sneered 
at her odd and scrappy acquirements. He 
gave her the benefit of his reading, and she 
respected him as an oracle. 


95 


Rugby Court . 

In regard to the children, each acted in a 
way to produce the happiest results. Sabby 
reasoned: “ These are my children, not his, 
therefore I must cultivate, on his part, by 
every means, that love which is not natural 
to him as their father ; and to do this I must 
make them lovable.” Uncle Jason, mean- 
while, carried out her policy by thinking: “ I 
can not claim these children’s hearts ; I must 
win them; ” and quiet as he was, he did it by 
his kindliness. All this Lizette saw, yet she 
saw more, and the more puzzled her. For 
instance, Aunt Sabby, in the main, never op- 
posed her husband’s whims ; for whims he 
had. She would go on for days in her merry 
way, making his butterfly nets, caring that 
his room was dusted, yet the precious bugs 
untouched, giving him meals at unheard-of 
hours, washing spots off his coats, never ask- 
ing when he came or where he went, and 
satisfied if he merely smiled at one out of 
her fifty remarks. Very patient she would 


96 


The Queer Home in 


be, when Lizette said to her little maiden self: 
“ If a husband is such a trouble and vexa- 
tion to take care of, I never want one.” 
Well, after days and weeks like this, Uncle 
Jason would seem to finish his work up-stairs 
and come down to be sociable. He would chat 
away with the children at a wonderful rate ; 
he would laugh and jest and send them off 
in the wildest frolics ; but the strange thing 
about all this was, that just in proportion as 
Uncle Jason grew talkative, Aunt Sabby 
grew silent and solemn. Then, as Lizette 
observed, when, like any other man who 
ceases to keep at his regular occupation, he 
seemed restless and a little restive. Aunt 
Sabby began to keep herself informed con- 
stantly of what he was doing and where he 
was. She put her work on others and, as 
Lizette could not help thinking, acted very 
peculiarly. The children paid not the slight- 
est attention. The general eccentricities of 
both parents seemed so well known to them, 


97 


Rugby Court. 

that had Aunt Sabby sat down at noonday to 
play the iewsharp, and Uncle Jason put him- 
self to dancing to it, Lizette half fancied 
they would scarcely have been noticed and 
apparently none the less respected. But 
coming so lately into the domestic atmosphere 
of this “ queer home, ,, she was more sensi- 
tive to subtle changes of its temperature, and 
certainly, it seemed to her, that these times 
of which we speak were not in unison with 
their usual happy existence. Immediately 
following such sociability on Uncle Jason’s 
part, came days of entire seclusion, when he 
must have made up for his recess by great 
industry. Indeed, at suth times Aunt Sabby 
was usually herself shut up with him, “ help- 
ing him,” she said. This thing occurred a 
few weeks after Lizette’s arrival, then not 
again for a long time. Recurring then, it left 
in Lizette’s mind the suspicion of a mystery, 
unsuspected by the older children, and of 
course unknown to the younger ones ; then 
7 


9 8 


The Queer Home in 


came the firm resolution that would spring 
up of necessity in any noble mind, to ignore 
the whole matter. The secrets of those 
whom she loved were nothing to her, unless 
the loved ones made them something to her 
out of confidence. She succeeded in putting 
all out of her thoughts ; the memory faded, 
and in weeks to come was not renewed. 

One day, Lizette sat by herself sewing. 
It was what Aunt Sabby called one of her 
“ high carnival days.” She used, on such oc- 
casions, to go all over the mansion in search 
of dirt, neglected work, or need of repairs, 
and her costume was usually unique, as she 
added to it various articles picked up on the 
way. This afternoon Lizette had offered to 
help her, and been sent away, for her aunt 
liked to wage the war single-handed. Lizette, 
as she sewed, heard her uncle’s step on the 
stairs, and a moment after, saw his tall figure 
slowly moving down the gravel walk toward 
the street. It was an unusual hour for him 


99 


Rugby Court. 

to go out, and she glanced at the great clock 
in the corner -to see the time, then went care- 
lessly on with her work. By and by, Aunt 
Sabby put her head (covered with a green- 
paper lamp shade) in at the door and asked : 
“ Is it three o’clock, dearie? ” 

“ Oh, yes, Aunt Sabby ! It was three long 
ago — when Uncle Jason went out.” 

“ Jason — went out ! ” Said Aunt Sabby, 
retreating a step into the dimly-lighted hall. 

“Yes, a little while ago,” continued Lizette, 
not heeding the shade of anxiety in her aunt’s 
tone, or in fact what she said herself. 

Her aunt went away; she sewed slower 
and slower ; the old pendulum swung sleepily 
back and forth ; the birds twittered under the 
window; and drowsy Lizette had a vision of 
Aunt Sabby gliding through the hall and out 
into the street. She rubbed her eyes, picked 
her work off the carpet, and said to her- 
self: 

“ This is laziness, going off into dreams this 


ioo The Queer Home in 

time of day ! Dick would have played me 
some trick if he had caught me napping.” 
But the noisy boys stayed away. Theophilus’ 
thin little voice came up from the garden, once 
in a while, and not for half an hour longer 
did any one appear — then Uncle Jason came 
back. He opened the door and came in 
where Lizette was, and sat down in a big- 
chair opposite her, saying : 

“ It is warm, isn’t it? ” «, 

She glanced up and saw he was deadly 
pale — so pale his gray eyes were almost 
black and sparkled strangely. She cried, 
springing up : 

“You are faint — or ill! Let me get you 
some water ! ” 

“No, open the window wider; I am well — 
only warm.” 

She threw open the shutters and he leaned 
back, saying: 

“ Don’t be at all alarmed ; I am not faint.” 
Then while she worried about his pallor, he 


IOl 


Rugby Court. 

gave her an account of his walk, and a picture 
he had seen in a window. He was unusually 
communicative, and interested her very much 
at first ; only he seemed excited and not so 
concise as usual. Soon he fell to talking 
slower — very slow even for him, and to stam- 
mer and feel for his words as a blind man 
feels for his steps. He rambled in his story 
and grew a little tedious. He said, not with 
any real connection of ideas, something about 
“ du penates and du lares” — “ know the dif- 
dif-difference-ah — Lizette ? I will tell you, 
each house had its partic-tic-u-lar du penates 
to which house their — ah, their influence was — 
was — was limited, yes limited — you know 
what limited means ? While the du penates 
presided over — No, I mean the other one — du 
lares presided over matters and things in 
gen-gen-general,” and here the grave scholar 
began to giggle, as if some highly comic sub- 
ject had come up — giggled for a second or 
two, then seeing Lizette’s amazement, he 


102 


The Queer Home in 


stiffened up into somber dignity and slowly 
uttered the words, a hand on each knee : 

“ I’m — I am I — have I been sufficient-fi- 
ficiently clear in my def-def-initi — ’’and 
his head sank heavily to one side and his 
eyelids drooped wearily. In a flash of horror^ 
Lizette knew the whole truth, and sick at 
heart, comprehended now the hidden life of 
this home. It was no half-waking vision that 
had shown her Aunt Sabby a while before ; 
but the real, trembling, anxious wife had fled 
from her unfinished work, off to the streets 
to find this quiet, scholarly husband, whom 
one or two glasses of liquor could change 
into this strange, ghastly, silly talker, now in 
a tipsy doze. The thought changed her hor- 
ror of the man into compassion for the 
woman. Anxious to save the love and pride 
of Aunt Sabby from a wound, she grasped 
his arm and whispered : 

“ Mr. Bernard (in sudden disgust, she 
could not say Uncle), let me lead you up- 


103 


Rugby Court . 

stairs. Aunt Sabby will be home — the chil- 
dren will come in — and you are not well — 
not yourself.” 

He rose up meekly, walked a few steps, and 
the effort gave him some self-command; for 
in his usual manner, he said : 

“ You need not help me ; I am well enough 
to get up-stairs, thank you. You need not 
mention this to your aunt — it is only a head- 
ache.” 

She heard his step on each stair until he 
reached his room ; then going to the window 
she gazed out, seeing nothing — asking her- 
self, if it could . be, he was sick and not — 
Drunk ! A few moments later and Aunt 
Sabby came in. Lizette, when she saw her 
at the gate, fled back to her seat and did not 
look up at her entrance. In a voice kept 
from over-eagerness, her aunt asked : 

“ Has your uncle come in yet ? ” 

Lizette also played at indifference in answer- 
ing: 


104 The Queer Home in 

“ Yes, ma’am; he is up-stairs.” 

Mrs. Bernard loitered a few seconds, then 
Lizette heard her softly steal up after him, 
and then began the murmur of low voices, 
talking a long, long time. At supper, the 
merry children settled into their places with 
fun and laughter; heedless of the fact that 
their father ate little and their mother less. 
He was still pale and sick-looking, but he 
drank eagerly the delicious strong coffee 
Aunt Sabby had made, as a “treat,” the 
children said. After supper, he said he would 
go and get the evening paper ; but Billy was 
sent for it instead ; and Aunt Sabby quietly 
bade the other children tease him for a story. 
It was so seldom that she allowed them thus 
to importune him, that they went at him like 
bees about to swarm, and he did not rebel. 

Lizette, who felt uneasy in his presence, 
and sorry at heart for her aunt, went away 
to her own room. In time she heard the 
children go to bed and then the house was 


R ugby Court . 105 

quiet. Just before midnight, she was awaken- 
ed by low voices again, in the hall below, this 
time. Some one at the door was going out, 
arguing, and then, as if in answer to entreat- 
ies, coming in ; finally, the door shut quickly, 
and a man seemed to run down the walk and 
out into the street at full speed. All was 
silent a few moments, then into the quiet of 
the night fell low, heart-broken sobs. Lizette 
ran lightly into the hall and looked down. 
Aunt Sabby, in her night-dress, was leaning 
on the lower railing, weeping, shaking from 
head to foot. The girl’s first impulse was to 
rush down and comfort her, the next to re- 
treat, remembering the sorrow with which a 
“ stranger intermeddleth not.” 

On the morrow, after breakfast, Aunt 
Sabby was absent or out of sight until night; 
then Lizette heard her voice and her hus- 
band’s. The next day the children said their 
father was not well, and his meals .were taken 
to him by his wife, who did not leave him 


106 The Queer Home in Rugby Court . 

alone. The latter part of the week every- 
thing was as usual, and after a while it really 
seemed to Lizette that she had dreamed the 
whole affair — it came so suddenly, ended so 
quietly. Uncle Jason again moved about 
among them, sedate and genial ; Aunt Sabby’s 
face beamed with benevolent cheerfulness, 
and that afternoon, in course of time, was 
remembered as a sort of nightmare only. 


VI. 


“ Never anything can be amiss when simpleness and duty 
tender it.” — Shakespeare. 

Before many months Lizette found out 
that each member of this great family of chil- 
dren had a distinct individuality of character. 
At first they were “the boys ; ” but in a few 
days each brother took rank in her esteem 
according to his habits and disposition. 
Harry, the eldest, and the mother’s favorite 
— if there could be favoritism in a flock so 
brooded over and faithfully watched by the 
bustling mother — Harry she began to like in 
somewhat the way she had liked Maurice. 
He was far more demonstrative at trifles, less 
sensitive and scholarly in taste than Maurice, 

(107) 


108 The Queer Home in 

but equally good-natured, and possessed of 
quite a different kind of information. 

At her coming, Harry patronized her with 
very courteous and, perhaps, unconscious 
condescension. She tossed her lofty little 
head in supreme amusement, laughed to ex 
cess at what he had considered his excellent 
pronunciation of French ; and when he 
thought to impress her with the sense of any 
of his acquirements, showed such a penetra- 
tion of his weaknesses, that his respect for 
her grew with his admiration. He constituted 
himself her constant companion, and, in a few 
things, her teacher. 

It was a plan of Aunt Sabby’s to send one- 
half her flock to school, and make them in 
turn impart what they learned to those who 
stayed at home; therefore Harry, who had 
received excellent advantages, now gave 
Lizette the benefit of them. 

Soon after her coming, Lizette had given 
her uncle and aunt full details of her past life. 


Rugby Court . 109 

They were all aware that she was a Catholic, 
yet she had undergone nothing of remark, far 
less of ridicule, upon this account. 

One Sunday, as she sat unobserved, listen- 
ing to Aunt Sab, who was reading Bible 
stories to Theophilus Claude, who had the 
measles, she suddenly remarked : 

“ I have always meant to read the whole 
Bible. Father D’Hullin said perhaps some- 
time I might. May I take one? I think 
some time must have come.” 

Aunt Sabby gave her one readily, and, by 
and by, said : 

“ I would like to know more about your 
Catholic doctrines. Won’t you take time, 
when you feel like it, and show me some of 
those texts on which your Church founds its 
beliefs in purgatory, confession, intercession 
of the saints — your entire creed, in fact? It 
differs somewhat from mine.” 

Now, Aunt Sabby was as truly setting a 
trap as Father Vignon had been ; yet she did 


no The Queer Home in 

it more artfully, and into it Lizette fell. She 
wanted to show Aunt Sab how good a student 
she could be, and soon became heartily inter- 
ested in the study of the Bible. 

For one of her age and mental discipline, 
her mind was strong and her reasoning powers 
unusually active. 

As there were no Catholic churches in that 
part of the city, Lizette fell into the habit of 
going with the family to a Protestant church. 
She liked the novelty of new forms, and very 
soon found herself on what Father Vignon 
would have considered most dangerous 
ground. A conversation with Aunt Sabby 
dissipated from her mind a cloud that had 
hung over her ever since she rejected the life 
of a nun. 

She sat one evening with Marjory and her 
mother in a pretty balcony, overrun with 
trumpet-creeper and morning-glories, and was 
unusually silent. She was thinking to her- 
self : 


Ill 


Rugby Court. 

“ How delightful this life out in the world 
here is ; but is it right for me to like it, and 
to be happy ? Can I get any good, or do 
anything to win heaven, as I could have done 
in the convent? Oh, why was it so disagree- 
able to be religious ? ” 

Aunt Sabby suddenly shut up her book, 
which was a medical treatise. She usually 
did her own doctoring ; and that day The- 
ophilus had not been so well. She shut up 
her book, and asked abruptly: 

“ Homesick, Lizette ? — or what is it ? Tell 
your old auntie ! ” 

Lizette, after a little hesitation, confessed 
her supposed sin in not wanting a “ vocation.” 
Aunt Sab loved to vanquish grim spectres. 
She came up to this with vim. She did not 
attack Lizette’s faith ; but she talked about a 
monastic life in the light of clear common- 
sense, and then of conscience. Perhaps a 
minister might not have taken just her line of 
argument ; but no one could have used a bet- 


I 12 


The Queer Home in 


ter. It was truth and not poetry ; for Aunt 
Sabby talked as one who, loving the Master, 
loves His work right here in the world, and 
among the world’s people. 

“ I tell you, Lizette,” she said in ending, 
“ it is just as the poet Somebody says some- 
where.” 

And from the confused treasures of her 
memory she quoted Keble : 


We need not bid, for cloistered cell, 
Our neighbor and our work farewell. 
The trivial round, the common task, 
Will furnish all we ought to ask : 
Room to deny ourselves ; a road 
To bring us daily nearer God.” 


Lizette was comforted and convinced, once 
for all, that in refusing to be a nun she had 
not lost all good for herself or others. 

We have said that Theophilus Claude had 
the measles. More would be made of this 
fact if Theophilus did not always have some- 


Rugby Court. 113 

thing of that sort. If he could possibly have 
enjoyed himself in the processes, there would 
seem to be calculation and malice in the way 
he caught juvenile diseases ; but as each went 
hard with him, the unprejudiced mind was 
forced to conclude that he was, after all, not 
so much the catcher as the caught. Whoop- 
ing-cough, measles, chicken-pox, and scarla- 
tina went out of the way to seize upon him, 
refusing to attack the other children in his 
stead. 

After a while the family became used to it; 
and although uniformly most kind and sympa- 
thetic, were not greatly alarmed at each new 
seizure ; but only wondered what Theop 
could have next. He was naturally rather 
melancholy, yet not morose ; sadly gentle and 
perfectly patient. He liked to save trouble, 
and make his own mustard plasters and cough 
syrups ; would wind up his little pipe-stem 
throat in red flannel bands, and then sit over 
the fire in his sick-gown, toast his tiny feet, 
8 


1 14 .The Queer Home in 

and moralize, as if into his nine or ten years 
had been crowded the experience of ninety. 
For instance, on this particular evening, when 
. Aunt Sab went to him, she found him in bed 
with his head in Marjory’s green sunbonnet 
and an old black veil over his face. He ex- 
plained to her very gravely that the veil was 
on account of the mosquitoes, and the bonnet 
to keep the veil up from tickling his nose. 

After his mother had sat by him a while, he 
solemnly inquired : 

“ Mar (Mar and Par was a provincialism 
in which the younger Podkins indulged), 
which of them brought or put measles into 
the world ? ” 

The “them” being lucid to Aunt Sabby, 
she asked in return : 

“ Which of them put sin into the world ? ” 

“ The devil.” 

“ Well, Theoppy, to my mind sin and sick- 
ness came in hand and hand — twins, as we 
might say.” 


Rugby Court. 115 

“ Mar, did I sin myself into these measles ? ” 

“No. I mean it was further back.” 

“ Was you the sinner, mar ? ” 

“ You don’t understand, Theophilus. The 
primer I used to study says : ‘ In Adam’s fall, 
we sinned all/ ” 

“ Oh, yes, I understand, mar,” croaked 
Theophilus, weakly, and putting up the veil 
in his earnestness. “ Satan put it in at the 
beginning ; but I want to know how. Was 
it a great lot of measles and things to be 
divided around forever and ever ; or only a 
little kind of yeast of measles, one bodies to 
set another bodies a-going and it never run- 
ning out just as your pancake batter didn’t 
last winter ? .Come to think of it,” said The- 
ophilus, boldly, going under the old veil again, 
“ I know that was the way. Ever so many 
batters of diseases, just like buckwheat, and 
flour, and rice, and injin pancakes.” 

Theophilus continued to carry out this 
demonstration until he digressed into the 


1 1 6 The Queer Home in 

nature and habits of mosquitoes ; whether 
Satan lets them bite, and whether we would 
have been bitten in Eden if in Adam’s fall we 
had not sinned all. He was proving that we 
would not, and why, when his utterance grew 
thick, the old sunbonnet laid quiet on the pil- 
low, and Theophilus sojourned in the Land of 
Nod, leaving Aunt Sabby in doubt about 
Eden. 

When Lizette had been at Rugby Court 
about two months, she found on her plate one 
morning a letter from Father D’Hullin, and 
she was rejoiced to find that he was not so 
angry as she feared he would be. To be 
sure, he called her silly, headstrong, and very 
reckless, and emphatically asserted that she 
would never have been allowed to have her 
own way had he suspected what that way 
was to be ; yet he did not threaten or attempt 
to recall her. In fact, after he had well 
scolded her, Lizette fancied she detected 
something like relief and complacence in that 


Rugby Court . 117 

part of bis letter where he hoped she was 
“ satisfied now.” 

Maurice, it seemed, had faithfully delivered 
his message, which furnished the clew to her 
whereabouts. Father D’Hullin wished Lizette 
to inform him of her reception, and, in detail, 
of her present circumstances. He told her, 
in the old friendly way, toward the last, that 
he still considered her welfare and happiness 
as his charge, and if ever she was in want or 
trouble she must have no fear or shame of 
letting him know. In concluding, he exhorted 
her to beware of heretics ; for they would 
make her tenfold more the child of evil than 
she could be without their teaching. This 
was strong language for the fat old fellow — 
was so strong it quite failed of its object ; % for 
Lizette’s reason told her that neither Aunt 
Sabby or Uncle Jason deported themselves 
like the aforesaid children. Therefore, she 
quite forgot to rank them as heretics at all. 

Lizette wrote a long, respectful letter to 


1 1 8 The Queer Home in 

Father D’Hullin, and promised to write when 
any important event occurred, or in case of 
any change of her life or home. 

She wrote about the same time to Maurice ; 
for from Father D’Hullin’s letter she inferred 
he was still with his brother. With much 
that would be of no interest to the reader, 
she wrote : 

“ You can not imagine, Maurice, two quiet 
ways of living more unlike than my life here 
and my life in Canada. Here I am awakened 
early by the shouting and singing of the chil- 
dren, with which this queer big house fairly 
swarms. Instead of eating my breakfast in 
silence, and then wandering off to the water, 
the woods, or to church, I join the merriest 
kind of a company at the table, and then at 
work about the house. Maurice, we have 
never been young in the way these children 
have. You seem a great deal graver than 
Harry, who must be rather older than you 
are ; yet he knows more of life than you do. 


Rugby Court . 


1 19 

He is full of good-humor, nonsense, and a wee 
bit of conceit ; but I see plainly his mother 
thinks such another oldest son was never on 
the earth, though Fred is a finer scholar, and 
Dick really wittier. He tries to act as if he 
did not know that he was handsome, and his 
attempts that way prove his self-conscious- 
ness. He is very good to me, and so are all 
the family, without exception. All the morn- 
ing I spend with Aunt Sabby, working about 
the many rooms, which are so full of things I 
never saw or heard of at home, things that 
are indispensable here. In the afternoon I go 
out sight-seeing, and take long walks with 
the dear little deaf Marjory, of whom I wrote 
to your brother. She is my one true cousin, 
though the rest have adopted me. In the 
evening I study according to a plan marked 
out for me by Uncle Jason. All the children 
study an hour, then one of them reads aloud 
to the rest. They are, as a family, very fond 
of reading, and some of them are always 


120 The Queer Home in 

reading in or borrowing books from a great 
public library near here, of which they talk 
much. I have not visited it yet. Maurice, 
Aunt Sabby would amuse you so much ! Y ou 
never knew a woman at all like her ; she 
grows funnier to me every day ; but her heart 
is as kind as her manners are comical. Uncle 
Jason has not a very positive character, or 
else he is so quiet he does not show out him- 
self in the noise and bustle of all the rest. 
Aunt Sabby rarely gives him a chance to 
finish a remark ; she really can not. 

“ Do you miss me at all, Maurice ? I hope 
so ; for I have been homesick once or twice, 
especially at night. I would lie awake and 
hear the wind in the elm trees, and think of 
the rushing waves of our beautiful river, 
until, I would have given up almost every- 
thing but liberty to have been back in my 
own little cabin, watching the moon through 
the old window. How rude and poverty- 
stricken that home was, and what a simple 


121 


Rugby Court . 

life I led ! I am happier now than I antici- 
pated at the best, and I am sure I am learn- 
ing much I ought to know. Now, Maurice, 
I am with Protestants ; yet I think I am as 
much of a Catholic as ever (I think I am not 
very religious, or I should have been a nun). 
Nevertheless, being a Roman Catholic, I 
want to know why I am one. Won’t you 
find out for me? You love to dig into old 
books and find out all manner of reasons for 
things. If I wrote this to your brother, he 
might think I was further out of the right 
path than ever ; but it is only that I am with 
people who believe things for which they 
seem to give excellent reasons. Now, if I 
can never tell why I think so and so, how can 
I be a defender of the faith ? You know the 
Church says (here follow various doctrines). 
What makes the Church say so? You are 
studying for a priest ; give me the first benefit 
of your learning. Above all, Maurice, get a 
Bible; it is very interesting.” 


122 The Queer Home in 

It was a long time before Lizette received 
an answer to this last letter. When it came, 
it informed her that Maurice was not well ; he 
had studied much too hard, and that had 
affected his eye-sight. In consequence of this 
he had been forced to cease entirely his ap- 
plication to books, and return, for several 
months at least, to active out-of-door life. 
Then came a page or two of village news and 
homely details, all of interest to Lizette. He 
alluded to her inquiries only in this way : 

“ I do not think Father D’Hullin would say 
that you were called upon to be a ‘ defender 
of the faith.’ He would, I am sure, say, ‘ Only 
believe.’ I have, it is true, been digging into 
old books, and have studied much ; yet I 
don’t think, out of my accumulated material, 
that I could forge weapons with which you 
could fight a good fight. Let reasons go. I 
do not say it recklessly, but because I can tell 
you, from my own experience, that you will 
be just as well satisfied in this case with your- 


123 


Rugby Court . 

self and with what you believe is the truth. 
Perhaps it is my health, but I look at so many 
things listlessly of late. Too much thinking 
will not make you happy. Do right, and let 
that suffice. Y es, Lizette, I missed you very 
much. I never went past the old, deserted 
cabin if I could avoid it ; only the night before 
I went to college I slept there, or, rather, I 
stayed there for a sort of farewell. Through 
that window of which you often spoke, the 
moon shone so brightly I read a little by its 
light. By the way, I have studied a Bible, as 
you proposed. Have you ? I read ‘ Les 
Provinciales * before I put it back on the 
shelf, as you asked me to do. I think Pascal 
waked up my mind, and taught me to think 
and question. I have never gone to sleep 
mentally since ; sometimes I think it would rest 
me if I could. I am sure the trouble in my 
eyes is transient, as is the oculist, who assures 
my brother I can return to Quebec in two or 
three months. One thing in your letter hurt 


124 The Queer Home in Rugby Court . 

me, Lizette. I do feel old, and seem so, may- 
be ; yet, for me, that past life is beautiful to 
look back upon ! It was so full of life, and 
light, and freedom, and I never dreamed you 
felt a need of anything outside ; yet you speak 
of it as ‘ rude, simple, and poverty-stricken/ 
If you grow like that out in the world, where 
so many things are ‘ indispensable/ I shall 
not like it, and you know it will be a most de- 
plorable matter if a grim old priest somewhere 
in Quebec disapproves of a friend whom he 
never expects to see again.” 

Folded into the letter was a crushed mass 
of bluest forget-me-nots from the old church - 
yard. Lizette felt the tears fill her eyes as 
she gazed at them and thought of the place 
from whence Maurice had plucked them. 
She read “between the lines” of his letter 
that he was dispirited and lonely, and so she 
hastened to write him once more a long, full, 
and affectionate letter, thinking of him the 
while, not as the future priest, but as the 
genial playmate of old. 


VII. 


“How seldom we weigh our neighbor in the same balance 
with ourselves.” — Thomas a Kempis. 

Lizette was every day getting more like a 
child of the house. Aunt Sabby grew to love 
and trust her as an elder daughter ; confiding 
to her all her plans, purposes, hopes, and 
fears, save those touching upon one topic. 
Her lips were sealed upon this, and the 
silence would never have been broken but for 
a certain occurrence. From many little things, 
Lizette had come to think she had a pretty 
clear idea of how matters stood with Uncle 
Jason. He was not an habitual drinker; but 
at intervals, not at all regular or very frequent, 
he drank either to excess, or else small 
quantities affected him very strangely. The 
fact Lizette knew ; the details of his case she 

could not know. She was sure that such 

(125} 


126 The Queer Home in 

times were seasons of intense mental suffering 
to Aunt Sabby. 

Now, it happened that early in the first 
winter months there came a day when Lizette, 
who had become almost as watchful of her 
uncle as Aunt Sabby herself, observed his 
restless, talkative mood returning upon him, 
and saw with anxiety that Aunt Sabby, who 
was greatly occupied, did not take note of it. 
After supper he retired, as often before, to his 
own room, and all supposed him to be there 
throughout the evening. 

About nine o’clock Theophilus said he 
wondered “ where pa went to when he went 
out.” No one but Lizette heard the child; 
and her anxiety increased until, as if by 
chance, she let Aunt Sabby know her husband 
was not in the house. A merry laugh died 
on the good woman’s lips; she hurried the 
children off to bed, and not long after, Lizette 
heard her go out alone into the dark and cold 
of the winter night, softly shutting the outer 


127 


Rugby Court. 

door, and locking in the strong, brave boys, 
who would gladly have gone with her, but 
who must not know the pain and pride in 
their mothers heart. 

Lizette could not sleep until an hour or two 
later, when she heard her aunt’s voice below 
in the hall, sad and in a half-whisper, a 
stranger’s, also low, and once or twice Uncle 
Jason’s, high and animated. 

Soon all was still again, and next morning 
Aunt Sabby appeared at table, but Uncle 
Jason did not. She said he was tired and 
had the headache again. 

After breakfast, Lizette heard shouts of 
laughter in the kitchen, where Billy and Tom 
were washing dishes. She went out, and 
found Dick had just come in from an errand, 
and was telling Fred something that happened 
in the court the night before. 

“ You can’t half appreciate the fun of it,” 
said he, as Lizette stopped to listen; “be- 
cause you don’t know all about the people 


128 


The Queer Home in 


here as we do ; but, you see, last night about 
ten o’clock, some fellow, drunk or crazy — no- 
body can tell which — just took the rounds of 
the court, stopped at every gate, and gave 
the family history of the folks inside, and told 
just what the community in general thought 
of them. It was so dark nobody caught him. 
Every one who heard was so tickled, he kept 
still to hear his neighbor pitched into ; and 
altogether, it must have been rich ! The 
queer thing is, nobody knew the chap’s voice, 
while he knew everybody’s business in the 
court, and all his failings, if he had any. He 
said : 

“ ‘ Here live the Emersons ! They drink 
dried peas instead of coffee. They sent their 
uncle to the poorhouse, and cheated the last 
servant girl out of her wages ! They are 
aristocracy; but their grandfather cleaned 
feather beds for a living ! ’ 

“ Think of that for that exquisite Mrs. E. 
to hear! Joe Emerson rushed out with a 


129 


Rugby Court . 

cane, but waited because he was off by that 
time, giving the Perkinses fits for always 
telling how once they were * up in the world/ 
when ‘ pa was in the Legislature/ He said, 
‘ pa’s son Thomas ’ ought now to be up in the 
world — up — up — as high as Haman ! Oh, I 
can’t think of half ; but everybody is splitting 
with laughter (everybody that got off easy), 
over the most, who took it hot and heavy. 
They say there never was such a truth-teller 
let loose on earth before. Old Mr. Simms 
said it made him think of the wicked days of 
his youth, when he let off a string of fire- 
crackers in a Quaker meeting. Just as Cap- 
tain Holmes started out to capture him, he 
disappeared, nobody knows where. The 
captain thought he went into Mr. Price’s ; but 
he could not get track of him there.” 

Dick rattled on, and the boys rent the air 
with shouts ; but Lizette, for some reason, 
could not laugh, neither could she credit the 
suspicion that darted into her mind that it was 


130 The Queer Home in 

a mad freak of their own step-fathers. But 
if it should have been ! She went out, say- 
ing: 

“ Don’t be quite so noisy ; auntie don’t feel 
very well.” 

From the kitchen she entered the dining- 
room, and found her aunt doing nothing — lost 
in thought ; her little bright eyes were dim, 
and her round cheeks bore traces of tears. 
As Lizette came in, so also did another per- 
son at the opposite outer door, without ring- 
ing. It was Mr. Price, whom she knew by 
sight, and whose voice, at the first word, she 
recognized as the man’s who came home with 
her aunt the night before. He did not give 
her time to speak or to retreat, but said, in a 
whisper : 

“ Don’t worry one bit, Mrs. Bernard ! Not 
a soul has an idea it was your husband but 
myself, and I’d bite my tongue out before I’d 
tell. Nobody saw him at all but Captain 
Holmes ; and just as he started, 'I came right 


Rugby Court . 131 

out on him. I couldn’t hardly believe my own 
eyes, but I run him out of sight and into my 
basement before you could wink, and was out 
to help the captain search. I haven’t forgot 
the days and nights you watched my Janey 
that’s gone ; so don’t worry, marm. I’ll be a 
brother to you and to him. Poor man ! And 
such a gentleman, too — like a lamb at other 
times — don’t, now don’t ! ” he entreated, see- 
ing Aunt Sabby trembling, as if with ague. 
“ I dropped in to see if all was right now, and 
to tell you it’ll never get out. Good-day ! ” 

He backed out of the door, and Aunt Sab- 
by realized that Lizette, unable to escape, had 
stood still, with a crimson face. The first 
flash of anger Lizette had ever seen there, 
shot from her eyes, then blinding tears filled 
them, and she turned hastily toward her own 
room. Lizette sprang after her, stopping her 
way with an impetuous embrace, so sympa- 
thizing that before it pride and anger fled. 

“ I know it, Aunt Sabby, but none of the 


132 


The Queer Home in 


rest. Let me be your daughter, and make it 
easier for you ! ” 

Her aunt drew her after her, shut the door, 
and locked it to keep out the children, and 
then tried to calm herself before she spoke. 

“ I did not mean you to know, so long as I 
could help it; for what is the use? Your 
uncle is a man to be loved — yes, and to be 
respected ; and while I can keep my boys in 
ignorance, I mean to. I might have known 
a girl would be twice as keen-sighted. You 
couldn’t help it. I feel worse about their 
knowing than if he was their own father. 
You see it is like this: I don’t know whether 
to call it a disease or a sort of insanity. Jason 
don’t want, or care for, or scarcely think of, 
brandy for weeks together, then he begins to 
feel weak and low. If he tells of his feelings, 
I know what is coming, and in that stage I 
can watch, and sometimes ward off the attack 
by keeping him close, making him strong 
coffee, and begging him to hold out firm ; but 


Rugby Court . 133 

oftener he gets restless, excited, and wild as 
a hawk ; then by and by, so cunning and 
tricky, like some crazy men I’ve heard of. 
He will lie low and watch his chance to get 
away unnoticed. Many a time at midnight 
he has crept down and taken out a cellar- 
window, when I have locked all the doors and 
hid the keys ! Oh, dearie me ! dearie me, 
girl, Solomon hit it, ‘ Wine is a mocker, strong 
drink is raging/ If I can chase him right up, 
and catch him before he has taken much, 
sometimes he .will come home like a lamb, as 
Mr. Price said ; then next day how ashamed 
and sorry he will be, asking my forgiveness, 
vowing he never will mortify me so again. 
You’d believe that was the last time if you 
hadn’t gone through dozens of just such ! 
But it is generally the case that he gets 
enough down to be determined he won’t stop, 
then he goes on like a lunatic just ready for 
a strait-jacket, only now and then odd 
notions and streaks of sense. He always 


134 


The Queer Home in 


leaves his watch, pocketbook, and valuables 
behind ; takes just money enough, and goes 
never to saloons, but so coolly to drug-stores 
and places where he gets liquor for preserving 
specimens — pure alcohol. He’d drink that 
if he couldn’t get brandy. I keep his case of 
things preserved in it locked up, and when he 
wants to see um he comes to me ; otherwise, 
in one of his fits, I declare I aint one bit cer- 
tain he wouldn’t swallow down bugs, beasts, 
and all for the sake of the fiery stuff. After 
this stage he’d (if he was let alone) 
drink, drink, drink for days, and, I think, 
maybe drink till he died, for he has no 
care for himself — is not stupid, but in- 
sane. I thank the Lord I have always been 
able to get him under control in a few hours, 
or shut him up, at least ; then God only 
knows what we go through together. He 
groans, and cries, and walks the room, and 
begs, and goes down on his knees for ‘just a 
little brandy — just to steady his nerves.’ I 


i35 


Rugby Court . 

plead with him, and I pray to my God, and I 
try everything to help him I have ever heard 
of; so we weather it through, and he is so 
thankful to me when it is over. He is never 
ugly, no matter what he suffers. The hard 
thing is, there is no reckoning when he will 
be taken, or what absurd freak he will carry 
out in the first hour. He always does some- 
thing perfectly unheard-of and unlike anything 
he ever tries when he is himself. Now, you 
know, he never gossips or listens to the tattle 
of the neighborhood ; but last night he went 
the rounds of the court shouting out things 
that have sometimes come to his ears. In 
fact, I heard a temperance lecturer once de- 
scribe his case exactly — a man who, if he 
takes one glass, it is like fire to powder. The 
appetite may lie dormant for years, but it is 
there, like the smouldering fires of a volcano, 
to be aroused by one dram into fury — to 
drench body and soul in the burning lava of 
drunkenness. Now, maybe you wonder why 


136 


The Queer Home in 


I married your uncle if I knew anything of 
this, when I had a great family of boys coming 
up ? I did not know it, and Jason did not 
mean to deceive me either. This appetite 
had not troubled him for a long, long time, 
and he supposed it had died out entirely ; but 
a few years after we were married he had a 
low, lingering fever, and the stimulants the 
doctor gave him let loose in him a very demon 
of desire. You can’t realize it; I don’t want 
you to. Three-fourths of the time your uncle 
is as you know him to be. When he is not, I 
could endure it better if I didn’t seem to see 
that these attacks come oftener as the years 
go by. Once there might be six months 
between them, but this year he has had four 
in seven months.” 

Aunt Sabby paused in gloomy thought, and 
gazed through the bed-room window at the 
snow without. What a difference there was 
between Aunt Sabby the wife of the drunkard, 
and Aunt Sabby the mother of the children. 


Rugby Court. 137 

All her oddities and humor had for the time 
disappeared ; her very manner of expression 
was altered. She was a weary, distressed 
woman, under a great burden. 

“ Have you no hope of his reform ? ” faltered 
Lizette, afraid to open a new wound, yet 
anxious to comfort. 

A glow, not caught from the winter snows, 
crept into the woman’s cheeks ; her eyes filled 
with light, and she turned them full on the 
young girl. 

“Yes, I have hope, not in Jason’s will, but 
in God’s .strength. The same blessed Saviour, 
Lizette, who walked the earth ages ago, and 
cast out devils in answer to entreaties, carried 
away with Him that same heart of love and 
pity, and so if He ‘ had compassion ’ then, 
don’t you believe He has now ? I do. There 
is not an hour in the day that I do not by 
faith take my husband and lay him down in 
His presence, as they used to take the para- 
lytic ones to Him in old times, and I cry to 


138 The Queer Home in 

Him : * Lord, save him, for he can not save 
himself.' You would think, after all the past, 
that Jason would lose one kind of pride, and 
would admit that he had no self-control ; but 
he does not. He always declares that next 
time he will resist. He will not pray for help. 
He says, ‘ Why should I ask God to do for 
me what I can do for myself? ’ I say rather, 

* Why not ask God to do ’ what he can not 
do for himself? If Jason could only once be 
made to realize that he is, and always must 
be, utterly powerless when the tide sets in, he 
then would cling to the ‘ Rock that is higher ’ 
than he. I have this grand hope ! I know he 
can be saved. I am not thinking only of his 
soul, or of the next world. I mean saved 
here, in time, saved from sin. I don’t tell all 
I think about this, but God knows my heart, 
and sometimes I am sure He will yet say, 
‘ According to thy faith be it unto thee ! ’ ” 
Aunt ,Sabby’s tears were gone, and there 
was a solemn ring to her voice that awed 


Rugby Court . . 139 

Lizette. Was this the comical dame who 
every day flew hither and thither amid her 
noisy brood, like the “ old woman who lived 
in a shoe?” It seemed impossible for a mo- 
ment ; then she rose up, saying : 

“ Hear Billy shout after me ! He wants a 
kite-string. I must go to my work — 

“ * Darning little stockings for restless little feet, 

Washing little faces, to keep them clean and sweet.’ ” 


VIII. 


" The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill to- 
gether.” — Shakespeare. 

“ Jason ! Jason ! ” said Aunt Sabby, outside 
of her husband’s own peculiar apartment. 
“ Jason ? ” this time speaking interrogatively, 
and with emphasis, as one who had waited 
long enough. “Jason Bernard, are you 
dead ? ” 

Even then, Jason did not tell her whether 
he was or not ; so she applied her eye to the 
key-hole, and muttered : 

“Bless the scientific old lamb! There he 
sits smiling at a devil’s darning-needle on a 
long brass pin, as happy as if I never had 
been born, or, having been, hadn’t grown up 
to marry him. I have it, if I am locked out ! ” 

“ It ” must have referred to a broken side- 

comb which she plucked out of her hair, in- 
(140) 


I4i 


Rugby Court . 

serted in the lock, and dexterously picked 
with it, as she probably had before. 

“ Now, Jason, wake up, do ! ” 

As she was charged with electricity, more- 
over was punching him with her thumb, Jason 
awoke. 

“What is it, love?” he inquired, meekly; 
for, in a docile way, he was very fond of Aunt 
Sabby. “Don’t sit down on that bottle of 
ether, or tip it over ; the odor is stupefying." 

“ Humph ! Guess you’d been a smelling it 
before I came in! What is it? Well, it is 
old Felix. He has been on my mind lately, 
because he looks so sort of down in the mouth 
— low-spirited, I mean. Harry says he thinks 
the new library directors have got it into their 
heads Felix is too old for the position ; at 
least, that boy Cliff told Harry that Felix over- 
heard something of the kind. Cliff is his as- 
sistant, you know, that awkward chap Dick 
is always laughing at. Anyway, Felix isn’t 
himself lately. Marjory ran out this morning 


142 


The Queer Home in 


to walk around the fountain with him ; he 
took her hand, and then quite forgot her, 
until she pulled his coat-tails. Then he turned 
suddenly and kissed her — something he never 
did before in his life, though he is always 
tender with children. She saw tears in his 
eyes, and hurried home and acted it out to 
show me Felix was in trouble of some sort.” 

“ In that case,” said Jason, deliberately, 
“the question is, can we help him? What 
can you, or I, or any one else do for him ? ” 

“ Of course that is the question ! You run 
right around to the library. The rain has 
slacked up a little. Tell him I’ve got a big 
pie — chicken pie — for supper ; because we 
had a picked-up dinner, and wanted something 
hearty to-night. He has his meals sent to his 
lodgings, and it is dreadful cheerless. Tell 
him to run in and spend the evening with us 
— come right from the library, and let that 
Cliff come, too. Poor chap, he won’t hurt 
anybody, if he is homely as a sick grasshop- 


143 


Rugby Court. 

per. Ever since Felix was our neighbor Fve 
liked the good old soul. If he is in any trouble, 
you know, after supper I will get the young 
fry out of the way, and you can draw him out 
and cheer him up.” 

“ I can — not — show — an — undue curiosity 
in his — affairs,” said Jason, in most non-com- 
mittal slowness. 

“ Fiddlesticks ! If I can brighten up that 
puckered little countenance of his, I don’t care 
to know what put in a single pucker. I’d do 
it gladly without. I aint so curious.” 

“ Yes, love.” 

“ I would, too ! ” she retorted, quite as if 
he had contradicted her. 

“ I do not doubt it, Sabrina. You love to 
bear other people’s burdens, I often think.” 

“ Oh, well ! It is only that my back is 
broad. Come, now, trot around to the Library 
before he gets home and eats his bread and 
cheese.” 

Jason obediently arose, saying: 


144 


The Queer Ho7ne in 


“ I will immediately ; only let me put away 
that polystrechotes punc talus. My patience ! 
you have got it up the fringe of your sleeve ! ” 

“ Where ! where ! what ! Oh, Jason ! Jason ! 
what is it ? ” shrieked Aunt Sabby, wildly tear- 
ing at her flowing sleeve, and judging of the 
nature of the creature from the sound of his 
name. 

In a minute or two she dashed a dragon-fly 
onto the floor and broke its wings ; but was 
rather penitent when Jason mournfully re- 
marked that it was an “ uncommon speci- 
men.” 

“ It is a pity; now, isn't it, really? But if 
you had only said it was a bug. How did I 
know but it was a hippopotamus or worse ? ” 

Seeing his plaintive expression, her heart 
was moved, and she added, after a momentary 
hesitation, as if she was debating some point 
with herself: 

“ You can mend it, Jason! You certainly 
can. I never meant to confess something I 


Rugby Court. 


H5 


did here once, but now I will, just to convince 
you that it aint hurt one bit. I rushed in here 
one day in something of a hurry, and, some- 
how or another, I knocked off the shelf that 
horrid horny-tailed, old blue bug that you are 
so choice of, and snap went the tail off! I 
caught it up, and I felt like sinking. A second 
after I had an out and out inspiration. I saw 
that tail was all dried out hollow ! I ran and 
got a lucifer match, and split it, and daubed it 
over with gum-shellac, and, oh ! just fitted that 
tail on so beautifully over it ! ” 

The perspiration had started out all over 
Jason’s forehead. 

“ Sabrina,” he said, faintly, “ last week — 
Thursday — I came very near sending that 
specimen to the president of the Entomological 
Society for examination at a public meeting. 
If I had ! ” 

Aunt Sab was awed for about seven seconds, 
then she broke out with uproarious hilarity : 

“ I wish you had ! I wish you had ! Pro- 
10 


146 


The Queer Home in 


fessor What’s-his-name might have burst forth 
on the scientific world with a great treatise on 
the wonderful newly-discovered wooden-tailed 
what-you-may-call-it ! ” 

Jason had to laugh, and Aunt Sabby was 
comforted. She pulled off his study gown, 
put an old bottle-green coat on him, and 
dispatched him with the injunction : 

“ Do hurry, Jason; for the pie-crust will 
soak up all the gravy if it stands too long.” 

He waited just long enough to see her out- 
side the door where were his treasures, and 
departed. Aunt Sabby then shot off toward 
the kitchen like a ponderous meteor, if such a 
thing exists. 

It was a day in the late spring, and a cold 
rain poured persistingly out of the dismal sky. 
The beautiful blossoming trees hung their 
heads with the pinkness or purity hopelessly 
drabbled. They seemed as conscious of dis- 
aster as silk-robed ladies could have been 
under similar circumstances. One shivered 


i47 


Rugby Court. 

under the drip, drip of the unbending pines, 
that, in their turn, were like comfortable old 
settlers, who never have gay clothes, and 
scarcely know May from mid- winter. 

Now, while Uncle Jason plods along under 
his big blue-cotton umbrella, let us get a little 
ahead of him, and see whither his steps tend, 
and what sort of a character was old Felix, of 
whom he is in search with such hospitable in- 
tentions. 

If you had suddenly alighted in the spot 
where sat Felix just then, you might not have 
thought of a person at all, but rather of a bird : 
a moulting old canary perhaps, with a crest of 
pale yellow fading into white ; but with a 
cheerful chirp, and just enough elasticity in his 
neck to snow some ancient spirit. 

The nest was a little room, side-lined with 
straw from numerous boxes. In the center, a 
space was hollowed out, where Felix, the 
librarian of the “ South End Library,” when 
off active duty, sat and sang, mused, or chat- 
ted with Cliff, his assistant. 


148 The Queer Home in 

After saying that Cliff was a big-eyed, wide- 
mouthed, spindle-legged birdling, we have 
done with comparisons. The lad was not 
Felix’s son ; he was a street boy, who dis- 
tinguished himself — yes, well-nigh extin- 
guished himself — a few years before by 
tumbling into a cauldron of hot candy in a 
confectioner’s kitchen, whither he had crept to 
warm himself. Felix happened to be passing 
by as everybody was refusing the singular 
bon-bon. He could not, strictly speaking, be 
called the preserver, inasmuch as he had not 
pulled him out of the sugar, but he accepted 
the preserved, carried him home, nursed, 
adopted, and gave him a post under Govern- 
ment; that is, Cliff became messenger and 
mucilage boy in the Free Library. He was 
an example to all office-holders ; for in the 
discharge of his duties, property passing 
through his hands, stuck there in an innocent 
manner only. 

About the time Uncle Jason started from 
home, Felix looked toward the windows, 


Rugby Court . 149 

against which the rain was beating, and 
asked : 

“ Well, Cliff, what should you think ? ” 

He referred to going home ; but Cliff 
thought he asked his opinion of the weather. 

“ I should think it must have been an 
Angel’s washing-day up above, and that they 
had wrung out their white rigging, and was 
a-pourin’ the rinsin’ water down onto us.” 

“What an idea, Cliff! Is that what you 
have been thinking over so long ? ” 

“Well, a body must think something such 
a day as this. Nobody coming for a book ; 
nothing happening. Had to spend the morn- 
ing wondering why flies took the trouble to 
untwist their hind legs so they can go right 
at it, and twist and untwist, and twist and un- 
twist until, if I keep on looking, I know I shall 
mash the little black fools.” 

“ That is just the way with men.” said Felix; 
“ they get into trouble to get out, and then to 
get in, and so on over and over.” 


150 The Queer Home in 

“ Until Death, the universal smasher, comes 
and nothing is left of ’urn,” put in Cliff, pertly, 
rising up out of the straw with a stretch of 
five feet ten inches. 

“ I will stay a little after time,” said old 
Felix. “ It would be too bad for anybody to 
come through this storm for a book, and be a 
moment too late.” 

Cliff put on an oil-cloth cape and departed. 
Felix, left alone, critically examined the books 
whose covers they had been mending, hum- 
ming meanwhile an old Scotch song. He 
spilled mucilage over one book, busied him- 
self in repairing the damage, and then went 
on again : 

" I try’d to sing, I try’d to pray, v 

I try’d to drown ’t wi’ drinkin’ o’ ’t ; 

I try’d wi’ toil to drive ’t away, 

But ne’er can sleep for thinkin' o’ ’t.” 

The song and work ending together, Felix 
opened a door into a long, dim room, with 
sides divided into alcoves, filled with books, 


ugby Court. 1 5 1 

its many arches surmounted with ghastly 
plaster casts. Above all was the vaulted roof 
and the heavy beat of rain on the skylight. 
Half way down the library, Felix stopped be- 
fore a rack of newspapers. The sickly light 
from above strained his eyes, showed the frieze 
and patches of his coat, while it shed a green 
and yellow melancholy over his quaint figure 
and white foretop. 

“Yes, here his,” he muttered, pulling a 
paper nearer, and reading to himself: 

“‘At this meeting of the new Library Di- 
rectors, it was suggested that, as there must be 
unoccupied rooms at the west end of the oldest 
part of the building, inquiries be made, and the 
rooms put in order for the Historical Society.’ ” 

Felix leaned against the rack musing ; then 
he said, half aloud : 

“ I must go in to-night, or I shall have to 
go with them first.” 

He went down and across the great room 
again, repeating to himself : 


152 The Qit,eer Home in 

“Third alcove, fourth tier of books, ‘Cot- 
ton’s Translation of Montaigne.’ ” 

There proved to be, as he knew, a key 
there; and Felix, standing with his hand in 
the dust behind the volume, shivered as he 
touched the cold metal. A moment after he 
had removed all the books from a certain 
place in the alcove, and revealed behind them 
a lock and a portion of a door. He fitted his 
key in the lock, pushed the door inward, and 
next clambered nervously over the shelf into 
a room gray with dust, cobwebs, and the twi- 
light glimmering through almost opaque win- 
dows. 

Felix stood motionless a moment or two, 
seeing things sooner than one might who 
entered for a first time. Mice and moth had 
ruined the curtains. Some former rain had 
soaked through the ceiling onto a table hold- 
ing a once gaudy red-covered book. The old 
carpet rose and fell with air currents under it, 
and a sleek rat leaped off the bed and ran 


153 


Rugby Court. 

within range of Felix’s foot. The old man, 
flitting into the center of the room, stretched 
out his thin hand, and pointed into the shad- 
ows, as much as to say : 

“ It was there, and there, and there ! ” 

He sank noiselessly into the cushion of a 
ragged chair. Slipping out of that again over 
to the bed, behind whose curtain, trembling 
in the wind from a broken window, he peered 
like a faint-hearted ghost. A heavy book, 
disturbed at his entrance, fell outside the door 
with a loud crash ; he aroused himself to take 
a hurried survey of all, then crept through the 
aperture ; and, with his habitual air of patient 
plodding, replaced everything as before. He 
had scarcely given the finishing touch, when 
he heard the great outer door clang, and 
Uncle Jason was soon at hand. 

Felix received Aunt Sabby’s invitation with 
eager acceptance. It was not that he was 
hungry, for Aunt Sabby’s chicken-pie cookery 
was not the chief charm of her household 


154 


The Queer Home in 


economy. There was a vigorous, hearty 
atmosphere throughout her abode ; and con- 
tact with the merry child-life there, always 
made Felix brighter, and infused into his 
spirit something of new vitality. 

He followed Uncle Jason therefore with 
alacrity through the dismal streets, only stop- 
ping once, and that at Uncle Jason’s bidding 
him to tell Cliff that he, too, might come and 
sit under his neighbor’s vine and fig-tree ; for 
Felix and Cliff were neighbors to the Bernards. 
Felix was the old man at the gate of the house 
with “ Rooms to Let,” who had told Lizette 
where her uncle lived, the day of her coming 
to Rugby Court. 

"We have come,” exclaimed Uncle Jason, 
opening the door into the dining-room, where 
a fire in the open grate took the unseasonable 
chill out of the air, and filled the place with a 
rosy glow. 

“ They have come ! ” shouted Tom to Jack, 
Billy, and Dick, who were riding down the 


155 


Rugby Court . 

banisters in the hall, and freezing the marrow 
in Theophilus’ bones by trying to walk up- 
stairs on their heads ; such feats were so out 
of his power that he could never get used to 
them in his brothers. 

He was glad now to trot around on his 
shaky legs and hang up Felix’s cloak, and 
pull him out a big chair. Fred had brought 
Marjory some violets and early flowers out of 
the wet garden, and she was honoring Felix 
and the chicken-pie by making a bouquet to 
put on everybody’s plate ; for the table was 
already spread and only needed its crowning 
ornament. 

In a few moments Aunt Sabby entered, 
bearing her pie — a big, savory, delicately- 
browned pie, delightful to look upon. She 
deposited it in state, and warmly welcomed 
her guest ; then began introducing Lizette, 
patronizing Cliff, reprimanding Dick, and 
putting chairs around the table, all at the same 
time. 


The Queer Home in 


156 

When everybody was seated, grace was 
said, and then the pie was eaten ; while Aunt 
Sabby’s tongue, once well in motion, threat- 
ened, like Tennyson’s brook, to “run on for- 
ever.” Dick had secured a place for Cliff at 
his peculiar corner of the board ; for the latter, 
being something of an oddity, could give a 
Roland for an Oliver in the line of humor. 
The bursts of laughter all about them proved 
that these “ keen encounters of their wits ” 
were fully appreciated. 

Felix had felt an hour or two before as if 
all the gloom and chill of the storm without 
was falling cold on his heart ; but now, little 
by little, it was not otherwise with him than 
as if all beyond, as well as within, this cosy 
place was cheer and sunshine. Aunt Sabby’s 
coffee brought the color into his hollow 
cheeks, and once or twice he laughed out as 
gleefully as if that little old man flitting about 
the deserted room in the library had been a 
phantom of some one else’s brain. 


Rugby Court . 


157 


After supper Marjory climbed onto his knee 
and put her violets into his button-hole. As 
for Theophilus Claude, he had never happened 
to see Felix so near before, and something 
about him seemed to attract the child. He 
watched him for a long time, and after Marjory 
had slipped away, he went closer and stood 
looking up into his face. By and by he said, 
quietly : 

“ When I get to be as old, I think I shall 
be just exactly like you.” 

Felix laughed softly, with a queer, sad little 
twitch at the corners of his mouth. By and 
by he drew the sickly child up into his arms, 
and some way, forever after, gay little Marjory 
had a rival. Felix had never loved her as he 
learned to love Theophilus. 

Almost all the children retired to the kitchen 
in the evening to make molasses candy. The 
others drew near the fire, and Aunt Sabby 
asked Felix how long he had been the 
librarian. 


158 The Queer Home in 

The tuft of white hair over his forehead 
worked nervously as, retreating a little from 
the light, he answered : 

“ The Library itself was started fifty years 
ago, when I was five years old, and my father 
was the first librarian, and kept the place until 
he died. Then I had it. I took it when I 
was twenty-five. Everybody used to say I 
was not fit for much else. I knew every book 
on the shelf, or a good deal about it, which is 
next to knowing the meaning. I read ‘ Robin- 
son Crusoe * as a little chap in one alcove, 
pasted all the labels in another — -just grew 
into my office. I lived along there year after 
year, and it always seems to me as if, up to a 
certain date, I was much like a book myself. 
Everything inside kept unaltered, while out- 
side, I suppose, the cover grew older.” 

Felix stopped and smoothed the child’s 
hair. 

Aunt Sabby would have liked to know 
about this “certain time.” She had heard 


159 


Rugby Court. 

several rumors, all to the effect that Felix 
once married a foolish young wife, who ran 
away from him in order to go upon the stage, 
but before she reached her journey’s end was 
taken sick and died. 

“ Yes,” said Felix again, “ I feel as if I 
could not live away from that Library ; but I 
may have to find out that I can. I hear there 
is going to be great changes under the new 
Board of Directors. They need not be so 
uncivil to me as they are, though ; for no 
other man, who can do for them as well, will 
take the beggarly salary I have had. I loved 
the old place, so I have taken just what they 
gave my father years ago, when the Library 
was a great deal poorer. I have laid up 
nothing, and in that have been most fool- 
ish.” 

Aunt Sabby, who began to understand 
Felix’s trouble, tried to encourage him in 
hoping no change would be made, and Uncle 
Jason joined in the attempt. 


1 60 The Queer Home in 

Meanwhile, the young people in the kitchen 
grew uproarious. It seemed to Mr. Bernard 
that they must be waltzing among the tin pans 
on the pantry shelves, and rolling the flour- 
barrel up the wall. He said as much to their 
mother, but she went right on with her knit- 
ting- work. 

“ It is capers, Jason — only capers. They 
know if they make a muss they will have to 
clean it up ; if they break things recklessly, I 
take it out of their pocket-money.” 

Much to Jason’s relief, the “study hour” 
came soon, and peace reigned for a time. 
Cliff came in and ensconced himself in the 
chimney-corner by Felix, who was just telling 
about that item in the newspaper. 

“Is there any such room?” he asked, in 
surprise. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Where ? ” 

“Just where they supposed — in the west 
end. I shall have to empty it. It was never 


Rugby Court . 


161 

wanted before; so I defrauded nobody by 
leaving them there.” 

“ What is in it ? old books ? ” 

“ No ; furniture.” Then, because old mem- 
ories pressed upon him, and most because he 
was cheered and excited by sympathy, he was 
led on to say: “I lived there when I was — 
married.” 

“ Married ! ” gasped Cliff, all agape at once. 
“Tell about it, won't you?” he added, with 
the directness characteristic of such boys. 

Felix recoiled a little, and Aunt Sabby hur- 
riedly began about the directors ; but the old 
man did not profit by the digression. He 
said, quite simply : 

“ Yes, I will tell you all there is to tell, that 
you could care to hear. I have been married, 
and not so very long ago. I believe it was 
my fortieth birthday, and I was sitting in the 
desk reading ‘ Izaak Walton’s Angler ’ (that 
book I wouldn’t trust you to mend, Cliff, and 
so made you angry). It was a summer after- 


162 


The Queer Home in 


noon, late ; everything was as drenched in 
sunshine as it is to-night in rain. Well, I 
happened to look up sudden, and saw a young 
creature with the sunset all back of her as she 
stood in the big arched door, and yellow hair 
all loose and shimmering. I did not know 
before there were such beautiful things in the 
world. She wanted a book, and looked for 
it a long time. I could have found it sooner 
if she had not surprised me so. When I 
asked about her afterward, people said she 
was the daughter of a very poor man with a 
large family ; that she was not very strong, 
and they did not make her work. Nobody 
ever seemed to think her hair and face was as 
wonderful as I found it ; but it was. She 
came often after that for books, and we talked 
a good deal; at least, I did, and she listened. 
Sometimes it seemed to me she was absent- 
minded ; almost as if her body was like one 
of these pink and pearl shells with the living 
creature gone out of it. Other people said 


Rugby Court . 163 

she wasn’t good for anything but to % look at. 
I only said Elsie (that was her name) reads 
too many story books, and lives some life out- 
side of herself. I think that now. Four or 
five months after this, the father of the family 
died, and they said the children were being 
scattered among relations, or put out to work. 
I went to their poor little home when I heard 
it, and the widow cried and wondered what 
would become of Elsie ; and it all came out 
some way that I loved Elsie. Then the 
mother said: Take her for mine, and God 
would bless me for keeping her from want. 
Elsie did not like anybody else, and she did 
not want to go into a factory. She said she 
hated work ; so we were married and began 
housekeeping in that very room the Historical 
Society now wants. It was nice and home- 
like there. We had red curtains and bird- 
cages. I made coffee, and cooked all sorts 
of curious things ; for I was very handy, 
though I never had sisters to teach me. 


164 The Queer Home in 

While I ^yas doing that, Elsie would sit there 
in that old west window, and her strange hair 
all kind of blazed over with glory.” 

“ Humph,” muttered Cliff, who took it upon 
himself to be the mouthpiece of the com- 
pany. “ I wouldn’t cook vittals for my wife 
to set glory-blazin’ in a sunset ! Why didn’t 
she do it herself? ” 

Aunt Sab punched Cliff in surreptitious ap- 
proval ; but Felix answered, meekly : 

“ Ah, well, we each did what we could do 
the best. Maybe e Elsie could have cooked; 
but I couldn’t have made a lovely winder pict- 
ure, could I ? ” 

Cliff glanced from Felix’s fluttering hands 
to his face tinged with the fire-glow ; he 
scented a fallacy, sniffed uneasily, and was 
silent. ✓ 

“Besides,” said the librarian, “I am one 
of those born to take care of somebody or 
something. Elsie wasn’t very strong, and 
was sick a good deal ; but we kept pretty 


Rugby Court . 


i6 5 

comfortable. She used to say no old woman 
could take so good care of her as I did, and 
that she never had so easy a life, with all she 
wanted, before. Then we had a baby, too — 
a boy, that was talking and walking around 
before I had got fairly used to the sight of 
him. He was very little and spry, and his 
mother named him out of some book — Sin- 
tram. Whenever she looked at him she 
laughed and laughed ; for he was just a sort 
of a cut-off — young me. After awhile every- 
body laughed. I did not like it. And they 
called him ‘ Little Sin ; ’ and I did not like 
that either, because he was not ugly. He 
had a wee white face, bright blue eyes, and 
silky, silvery-colored hair. He felt as big as 
he was little, and he was always so busy find- 
ing out about things that he never had time 
to be silly or troublesome. Elsie never be- 
longed to me as Sin did, because she was so 
different from me ; but Sin was me ; every- 
body said so, and I told everybody I knew it. 


1 66 The Queer Home in 

When he was about five years old, Elsie used 
to take my place in the Library, and Sin went 
to market with me. He had got into little 
boots a few inches long. I could not wait 
until he was big enough, for he grew so slow. 
In the street he always walked straight 
enough to make a hollow in his back. He 
used to pucker up his mouth until you could 
hardly see it, trying to whistle. Once on a 
corner, he put his hands (you could have 
covered them both with your palm) in his 
pockets, threw up his head, and sang out 
something he had picked up from me : 

“ ‘ The honest man, be he e'er so poor. 

Is king o’ men for a’ that.’ 

“ Old Dean Buckley, from the college, was 
passing and heard it. He stopped, and ha- 
ha-ed like one of his own boys. Yes, I re- 
member now ; it was that very same morning, 
when we came home, that I found a stranger 
in the Library. He was the director of a the- 


Rugby Court . 


167 

ater, and came to look up an old play. He 
was a pleasant enough man, and got into the 
habit of loitering there to read when he came. 
He used to read out-loud to us — to Elsie, at 
least. I did not listen much.” 

Felix stopped as if suddenly aware he was 
not alone ; then, after a moment, he added : 

“ Poor Elsie ! I suppose her life was a little 
humdrum and old-fashioned, and I was getting 
gray. It was not a great while after — (he 
stopped, stammered, and summed up all he 
had to tell of Elsie) — not a great while after 
this that I lost my wife.” 

“ And Sin ? ” ventured Cliff, under his 
breath. 

“After that I was Sins mother for six 
months.” 

No one asked what happened then ; but 
Felix continued : 

“ One day an Irishman was digging a ditch 
at the end of that high piazza on the north 
side, and Sin was crazy to watch him. It was 


1 68 ' 


The Queer Home in 


a sunny day in March, but the wind blew 
furiously. The baby was little and light, and 
a sudden blast that came tearing around a 
corner just lifted him off his feet, and flung 
him like a plaything over the ditch onto the 
ground beyond. I could not move, for I 
thought he was killed. The fellow dropped 
his shovel and ran, snatching him up before I 
had groaned. Sin was white around his lips, 
but in a second he was on his feet, and flung 
a mite of a stone at the big Irishman, with a — 
“ ‘ Will you ever knock me down again ? ' 

“ Then I knew Sin was not dead, and I 
laughed for the first time in a long while.” 

“ Where is Sin ? ” asked Cliff, timidly, feel- 
ing that his curiosity must be satisfied ; for it 
was of long standing, as Felix had never told 
him much of his life. 

The old man hesitated ; his thin hands 
went out as if to ward off a touch upon some 
tender spot. Then they dropped motionless 
into his lap, and he answered : 


Rugby Court . 


169 


“ That night Sin did not seem to sleep, and 
he kept saying : 4 It hurts me ! It hurts me ! * 
I would say, ‘ Where ? Sin, tell me just 
where.* He answered every time, ‘ In my 
little heart, father.* Once he looked up so 
wise, and said, ‘ I understand how it goes. 
The little heart works for the little body and 
keeps it warm. I know about it, don’t you 
see ? I guess the little heart hurts because 
it’s getting cold.’ That was about all.” 

“ Oh, dear,” said Aunt Sabby, with eyes 
full of tears, “ I didn’t want that to be the 
end.” 

“ Well, it was the end of — about every- 
thing.” 

In a little while he added, gently : 

“ It is ungrateful in me to come here and 
make you sad. God is very good, and 
always gives me what I know must be best, 
even if I seem to find it the worst. Life is 
not black. I have my little Sin to think of, 
'and that is comforting. You know he must 


170 


The Queer Home in 

be a-waiting for me, and now — well, I can 
often down there in the market shut my eyes 
and feel his little fingers pull on mine, and 
hear him sing above all the street noise : 

“ ‘ Sorrows self wears past, 

And joy’s coming fast ; 

The joy that’s ay to last 
In the land o’ the leal/ ” 

The story had indeed been sorrowful ; but 
the 'telling of it had brought the hearers into 
close sympathy with the old man — a sympathy 
he had read in their faces ; and so, after all, 
he was rather cheered than saddened. 

When the study hour was over he watched 
the frolicking children with evident interest, 
and made no motion to go home until Cliff 
reminded him of the lateness of the hour. 

When the door closed behind them, Aunt 
Sabby rose up upon her hearth-stone and, as 
Dick said, “ spoke a speech.” 

“Dear! dear me! How sufferings does 
appear to be sifted around loose — great lumps 


Rugby Court . 1 7 1 

of it dumped down on weakly creatures that 
seem to need instead a strong prop under 
and a flood of light over um ; but every 
single time, children, the Lord knows exactly 
what He means, and so it is none of my busi- 
ness or yours either. Our business in a world 
like this is to be a family to which that lovely 
Bible verse can be applied : 4 They helped 
every one his neighbor, and said to his 
brother, be of good courage.’ Oh, you needn’t 
be a-winkin’ and a-blinkin’ behind my back, 
Dick. I see you in the looking-glass, and 
you are none too pretty any time. It is your 
duty, Richard Podkins, as a Christian child, to 
be asking every day of your life : Isn’t there 
somebody near me who needs something I 
can give them ? And you mustn’t ask it with 
your eyes shut up for fear you will see some- 
thing, either. There are plenty of folks just 
like that stingy deacon, who, when the hungry 
widow sent for him to help her, went to her 
and ' prayed for patience, goodness, and grace/ 


IJ2 


The Queer Home in 


But when he prayed, ‘ Lord, give her peace/ 
she audibly sighed : ‘ Give potatoes/ It didn’t 
cost anything to pray fbr her ; but potatoes 
were quite another thing. Now, you are all 
dreadfully sorry for Felix to-night, but don’t 
let this end it. Every day of our lives here 
together in Rugby Court we can do some 
neighborly act, if it is only to give him fruit, 
or flowers, or ask him into the garden. Billy, 
stop tormenting that old cat, or, big as you 
are, I will shut you into the phina-closet ! I 
won’t have a dumb beast annoyed.” 

“ Dumb ! ” said Billy. “ If you had heard 
her last night ! ” 

“ Now, where did I leave off? Oh ! I was 
about to speak of Confucius, or rather about 
the respect paid to old people in China. I 
ascribe the perpetuity of Chinese institutions 
to just that virtue — ” 

“ Excuse me, mother,” said Fred. “ But 
before I forget, I want to ask if there was 


173 


Rugby Court . 

chicken pie enough left for breakfast, or if I 
must make pancakes ? ” 

“ Pancakes, Freddy, and see they are bet- 
ter than your last.” 

“ Please go on with Confucius,” said The- 
ophilus, gaping ; he stood least in need of his 
mother’s moral harangues and always paid 
the best attention ; but Aunt Sabby had lost 
the train of thought. She put the cat*out-of- 
doors and sent the children to bed. She, 
herself, did not follow them. She stirred up 
the fire in the grate and sat down to medi- 
tate. A little later, Theophilus was sure he 
heard her singing softly to herself : 

“ Have we trials and temptations ? 

Is there trouble anywhere ? 

We should never be discouraged — 

Take it to the Lord in prayer." 


Theophilus loved hymns, so he sat right 
up in bed in the dark, and was piping away 
tunefully, when Dick put a pillow over him. 


174 The Queer Home in Rugby Court. 

He ceased meekly and went to sleep. Lizette 
hearing also, thought to herself, that out of 
such quiet hours came Aunt Sabby’s strength 
for trial. She knew that many a night, when 
the great family were at rest, there was a 
steadfast watcher, who was carrying “ every- 
thing to God in prayer.” Jason knew it too; 
it hurt his pride and troubled his conscience. 


IX. 


“ Only a boy, with his wild, strange ways. 

With his idle hours in his busy days ; 

With his queer remarks and his odd replies 
Sometimes foolish and sometimes wise.” 

— Anon. 

There was possible danger that Harry 
Podkins would be a conceited prig. All the 
lesser Podkins’ looked up to him as the 
younger Crichtons (if there were any) must 
have looked up to their brother the “ Admir- 
able.” His mother in many ways innocently 
flattered his vanity, and even Lizette showed 
that she admired, while she teased him. He 
knew Sundays, when they walked to church 
together, that the latter must be aware that 
his boots were very black, his gloves very 
neat, and his hair becomingly waved ; al- 
though in his “ innermost,” as the Germans 

say, he despised himself for that wave which 

(175) 


176 


The Queer Home in 


was artificial, not natural. His abilities 
being excellent and his information quite 
varied, he always appeared to good advan- 
tage. His manners were pleasing, and he 
inherited his mother’s conversational powers, 
but used more discretion in their exercise. 
Naturally generous, good-natured, and frolic- 
some, he was popular with his associates, -and, 
on the whole, extremely self-satisfied. Lizette 
and he had been the best of friends from the 
date of her coming to Rugby Court, one year 
before. They had read, studied, and taken 
long, pleasant walks about the old town, al- 
ways together ; for while Lizette was thrown 
constantly with all the family, Marjory and 
Harry were her more intimate associates. 

“ What are you thinking about ? ” he asked 
one evening, when Lizette had been study- 
ing his face in a most preoccupied way. 

“ Of you and of Maurice D’Hullin,” she 
answered. “ You reminded me of him at first, 
but you do not now at all. I am sure Maurice 


Rugby Court . 


1 77 


never spends ten minutes’ thought on his 
clothes, and you are like a girl in all such 
things.” 

“ Thank you, my dear Miss Bernard ! ” 

“ For what ? ” 

“For your honesty in giving a candid 
opinion.” 

“ Oh ! you are welcome to it ; if you don’t 
take it in any wrong way. When I compare 
you to a girl, I don’t cast any reflections upon 
my own sex. We think attention to dress is 
an amiable weakness — in a girl.” 

“Thanks again! You have the happiest 
faculty for implying so much more than you 
express. I suppose this Maurice hasn’t any 
amiable weaknesses ? ” 

“ I don’t recall any.” 

“ What an extraordinary youth he must 
be!” 

“ He is, in some respects — yes, in many,” 
said Lizette ; piqued, she hardly knew why. 

“Is he handsome ? ” put in Billy. 


i ;8 


The Queer Home in 


“ Yes.” 

“ More so than Harry ? ” asked Dick. 

“ He does not look at all like him.” 

“ Is he smart ? ” piped up Theophilus 
Claude. 

“ Yes.” 

“ More so than Harry ? ” repeated Dick, 
who in his inner soul wished to be exactly 
like his elder brother. 

“No — Yes, or no smarter perhaps; but 
more intellectual,” was Lizette’s demure re- 
flection ; her eyes were cast down, but the 
flush of anger in Harry's eyes had not 
escaped her. She was a little glad to have 
provoked him. 

“ Are you going to marry him ? ” solemnly 
inquired Theop. 

“ Whom ? Harry ? — He has not asked me 
to, Theoppy.” 

“ No. I meant Maurice.” 

“ I can’t ; because he is going to be a 
priest.” 


179 


Rugby Court . 

“ Perhaps the Pope might give him a dis- 
pensation,” said Harry, with a feeble attempt 
to be vicious. 

“ Perhaps he might — if the choice lay be- 
tween a priest and a heretic,” said Lizette, in 
the same spirit. 

“ What under the canopy are you all wran- 
gling about ? ” cried Aunt Sabby, who had 
caught but two words. “ What is that about 
* popes and heretics ? ’ You haven’t attacked 
Lizette’s religion, have you, my son ? She 
loves it, of course.” 

“ I didn’t know she had any,” saucily re- 
torted “my son;” “and if I have attacked 
anything else she loves, I beg her pardon.” 

“You need not do that. You never at- 
tack anything in a way to injure it in the 
least,” and Lizette’s dark hair was flung back 
with a toss. 

“My dear children, what a new and de- 
moralizing example you are setting the rest. 
I always teach them, you know, that 4 Birds 


180 The Queer Home in 

in their little nests agree ’ — which is not so at 
all ; for that last brood in the west piazza, 
fought like little pirates ; but then the princi- 
ple is the same — taught them that : 

“ * Birds in their little nests agree, 

And ’tis a shameful sight ; 

When children of one family — no, familee, 

(It has to go so to make it rhyme). 

Fall out and chide and fight/ ” 

“ Ye-s, mar,” drawled Theophilus, sagely: 
“But it says 'children of one familee,’ and 
there are three sets of us here — Bernards, 
Podkins, and Lizette. May be that makes a 
difference.” 

Theophilus’ philosophy amused his mother 
very much ; but Lizette and Harry were far 
too dignified to laugh. They ignored the fact 
that they were to read Shakespeare together 
that night. Aunt Sab went out to visit a 
sick neighbor, and after the younger children 
dispersed, it was a relief to the belligerent 
parties to have Uncle Jason come in and dis- 


Rugby Court . 181 

course at length upon the hanging gardens of 
Ancient Babylon. He talked much longer 
than usual, owing to the unusual opportunity 
afforded by the absence of his talkative other 
half ; but after an hour or two, he departed 
and left the two young people quite alone. 
Lizette sat by the center-table sewing ; her 
eyes bent upon a bit of ruffling, and a little 
resentment stirring within her toward Harry ; 
and yet she was half ready to confess the whole 
contest had been most absurd. Harry was 
never long angry at anybody ; so after a mo- 
ment or two he rose up, and taking one of 
her hands from her work, laid it playfully out- 
spread on his larger one, whispering gravely : 

“ You should never let your angry passions rise, 

These little hands were never made 
To tear out others’ eyes.” 

Lizette glanced up and seeing penitence 
back of the nonsense, they laughed together. 
As he drew the “little hand” up to his lips 
and kissed it with exaggerated grace, she 


182 


The Queer Home in 


said in the old tone, “ I don’t know whose 
angry passions rose up quicker than yours ; 
and all because I could not instantly admit 
that you were unsurpassed for your beauty 
and intellect. ,, 

“ But you admit it all now, of course, and I 
forgive you — I mean I ask to be forgiven ; of 
course I can’t like to know I have an equal, 
‘ let alone,’ as the Irish say, a superior, even 
outside the geographical limits of this land of 
the spread eagle. Now that we are all ami- 
able again, tell me about that Maurice. ‘ I 
would like to know the particulars,’ as mother 
tells Tom and Billy, when they get into a 
squabble.” 

“ Why, Harry, I have told you long ago all 
that was interesting about my Canadian life 
and horn e ; but if you ask me any questions, 
I will answer them in full.” 

Lizette folded up her work and looked ex- 
ceedingly pretty in the soft lamp-light. In- 
deed it had occurred to Harry several times 


i»3 


Rugby Court. 

of late, that when very clear blue eyes were 
shaded by long black eyelashes, the effect 
was really charming. 

“Well, what was Maurice like, anyway?” 

“ I have often told you how he looked — do 
you mean to ask about his character ? ” 

“Yes, just that,” replied Harry, whittling 
a whalebone with her embroidery scissors. 

She took them away from him before she 
continued : “ Maurice never thought other 

people’s thoughts ; but always knew what 
were his own ideas before he learned any 
one else’s. He was very quiet, and so gen- 
tle that when he flamed up vehemently, as 
he did sometimes, it was like a flash of light- 
ning through the dark, showing his whole 
self in an instant. He seemed to be easy, 
even slow ; but when once I heard him say, 
‘ I will/ in his delicate way, I felt as sure of 
the accomplishment of something, as if I had 
heard instead : I have done it. He was very 
fond of out-of-door sports ; but he was not so 


184 The Queer Home in 

full of fun as I was ; and this is why he liked 
me perhaps ; then I was always climbing into 
breakneck places, and he was always taking 
care of me. He has pulled me out of the St. 
Lawrence, rescued me from a rock, where I 
hung helpless ; in fact, saved me from dangers 
‘too numerous to mention.’” 

“ If there was no fun in him, and he was so 
solemn and quiet — having seen so little of the 
world too — he could not have been very good 
company. Wasn’t he something of a bore ? ” 

“No, indeed, he was not! He was the 
best of company. He had read — not so much, 
to be sure, as if he had had access to more 
books ; but whatever he did read, was always 
worth reading, and then he turned it over 
and over in his head, until the ideas sue- 
gested by it would have made a new book. 
He was quick, intensely quick in his percep- 
tions ; and he had plenty of wit. I meant he 
was not continually brimming over with non- 
sense, as you are.” 


Rugby Court. 185 

“ Is there time for another unpleasantness 
to-night ? ” asked Harry, glancing up at the 
clock. “No, for mother will be here soon; 
but if any more causes of offense arise, we 
can ‘ fight ’ them out to-morrow.” 

Lizette laughed ; but went on, as if think- 
ing aloud : 

“ I did not think all this of Maurice when I 
was with him. I did not think of much of 
anything in those days, unless it was con- 
nected with myself. I must have seemed 
selfish to him ; for it is only since I have 
been here, that I have learned to appreciate 
Maurice.” 

“ If you were to sojourn awhile in Asia 
Minor, or somewhere else, don’t you suppose 
you would come to realize how you had un- 
dervalued present company ? ” 

“ Perhaps — if I stayed long enough to im- 
pair my memory.” 

“ I only regret I did not ruin those scis- 
sors,” said Harry, snatching t at and missing 


The Queer Home in 


1 86 

the work-basket. “ Well, say, Lizette, why 
don’t this wonderful Maurice come and see 
you ? ” 

“ Why, Harry ! He is poring over Church 
history in some dark old college. I wonder 
if the Catholic Church seems to him all that 
Father Vignon used to say it would ; if in 
his soul, he is really satisfied with his faith ? 
Poor Maurice ! ” 

Lizette’s bright face grew sorrowful, and 
Harry became suddenly grave ; remembering 
how silently, but surely, Lizette had dropped 
one by one all signs of adherence to her old 
belief in the Virgin and the Saints. It was 
true, as Aunt Sabby said, she must have be- 
come a Protestant in conscience and a Chris- 
tian in heart, if her outward life afforded an 
index to her inner. He recalled with regret 
his saucy jest of the evening, and said gently : 

“ Will you forget that hateful speech of 
mine to-night ? — I mean about your ‘ religion/ 
If you will teach me how yours does make 


Rugby Court . 187 

you as lovable and conscientious as you are, 
I will be a willing pupil.” 

“ Oh, I always forget our foolish little 
squabbles. You are like a brother, and, I 
know, never mean to hurt me.” She spoke 
simply — in a way quite matter-of-fact; for 
once in a while, as just then, there was an 
undefinable shade of something new in their 
intercourse. Lizette felt always anxious to 
get rid of it at the time, and assured herself 
afterward that she had too much imagina- 
tion. 

Aunt Sabby’s beaming countenance ap- 
peared in the door. She gave a quick glance 
at the two by the table, and a queer gleam 
came across her face and vanished before 
either one of the others detected her. When 
Lizette went to her room, a little later, she 
sat down by her window and overlooked the 
garden below. It was so brilliant a moon- 
light night that she could almost discover the 
color of the many flowers in Aunt Sabby’s 


The Qiteer Home in 


broad box-bordered beds. Their faint, sweet 
perfume crept up to her through the silvery 
leaves of the trees, and everything without 
was so pure and beautiful, that to go stupidly 
to bed seemed a most prosaic procedure. 
She sat instead, picturing to herself the great 
shining river flowing by her old home, and 
the long shadows of the pine trees, the only 
moving thing about the desolate cabin. She 
was not at all melancholy ; why should she 
be ? But she wished that it were possible to 
fly there as quickly in reality as in thought. 
She would like much to see Father D’Hullin, 
and even more, to have a long talk with 
Maurice ; but failing of this, she resolved to 
write them a letter, or at least to send one to 
Father D’Hullin, which he might give in turn 
to Maurice, if he found that feasible ; if he 
did not, it was no great matter. To resolve 
was with Lizette to do ; therefore, next day, 
Harry carried to the post a long, girlish letter, 
the third only which Lizette had written to 


Rugby Court . 189 

Canada, and the last for a long time ; for she 
received no answer to it. 

“I wonder how Felix is getting along?” 
said Aunt Sabby next morning at the break- 
fast-table. “ I have seen nothing of him for 
a week; have you, Jason?” 

“ Yes, I saw him yesterday,” returned her 
spouse, slowly buttering a biscuit. “ I went 
to the Library to get a book on entomology, 
and found Felix on the top of a step-ladder 
enveloped in dust from a great pile of old 
books on an upper shelf, and out of the murky 
cloud he was singing: 

“ ‘ It’s coming yet for a’ that, 

That man to man the world o’er 
Shall brother be for a’ that.’ ” 

“ Singing to keep his courage up,” said 
Harry. “ I was asking Cliff what the prospect 
was under the new Board, and he said the 
Directors were angry, because a room or 
rooms like Felix’s had been so long unrented, 
and they would not accept it as any excuse 


190 The Queer Home in 

that no one had ever wished to rent them. 
Cliff said Felix was very busy in getting 
everything about the Library in the most 
perfect order, and says he has no doubt they 
intend to have a new Librarian. Cliff him- 
self overheard a Director say that the old 
fellow had better be dismissed and the young 
one retained, because he knew so much about 
matters that another boy could not learn in a 
good while.” 

“Will Cliff stay without Felix?” asked 
Fred. 

“ I put the question to him,” replied Harry, 
“and you should have heard him say : ‘ I’d 
scorn ! I’d scorn ! ’ Three times repeated in 
perfect disregard that the verb was transitive, 
or ought to be.” 

“ I saw clearly,” went on Jason, as if con- 
tinuing his first remark, “ that the thought of 
a coming change was uppermost in Felix’s 
mind ; for he stopped his work and said to 
me : ‘ I have been thinking, I might get into 


Rugby Court. 191 

some second-hand book-store or even a book 
stall ; I should feel lost without something- of 
this kind to handle.’ ” 

“ But after all,” said Aunt Sabby hopefully, 
“ may be he will not get turned out ! ” 

“ No, mother ! People had the impression 
given them at the last meeting of the Direc- 
tors, that Felix was superannuated. I hear it 
in all quarters,” said Harry. 

“ Yes, I know one or two of these Direc- 
tors,” added Jason, “ and all of them hint at 
this. They are very new brooms and they in- 
tend to sweep clean.” 

“ Well then, we have got something to do, 
children ! Remember * Each of them helped 
his neighbor.’ You big boys must be on the 
lookout for some occupation suited to Felix’s 
age and abilities. Cliff can find work easily. 
He is strong, quick, and willing.” 

“ Cliff wants to get into a marble-yard,” 
said Fred. “ He seems to think nothing on 
earth would be so grand as to have the mak- 


192 


The Queer Home in 


ing of somebody’s tombstone. He never 
goes by a stone-cutter’s but he gloats over 
the monuments as if they were big lumps of 
sugar.” 

“Yes, mar,” said Theophilus. “Marjory 
and Cliff are going into business together in a 
few years. Cliff is going to bring her some clay 
this week and show her how to make bigger 
figures than those wax ones she made. He 
says when she knows a great deal more, and 
he does too, he will copy hers into marble.” 

“ Shades of Michael Angelo ! ” exclaimed 
Dick, waving a baked potato in the air ; 
“ have we a sculptator and a sculptatoress 
among us ? 'I too am a painter,’ as some- 
body said somewhere. I feel genius swelling 
inside of me.” 

“ Humph,” said Aunt Sabby, derisively, “ I 
wish something inside of you had made you 
paint that back fence properly. It looks like 
a zebra; everybody that goes by laughs at 


Rugby Court . 


193 


“ Well, then, mother, I am more than satis- 
fied ; * whoever brings a bright smile to the 
face of suffering humanity is a public bene- 
factor ’ — that is the sentiment you uttered 
about half-past three o’clock yesterday, and I 
went right out and painted the fence with that 
in view. If it was like everybody else’s, who 
would look at it ? ” 

Aunt Sabby went on pouring Theophilus 
a cup of weak tea, and disdained to laugh at 
this son of hers, who was the most like her 
of all the children. Uncle Jason remarked 
benignly, “ Cliff will make an excellent me- 
chanic one of these days ; but an artist — never ! 
As for Marjory, I mean to encourage her in 
clay modeling; she shows no signs of genius 
as I can see yet ; but it will be a kind of work 
to amuse and interest her. In regard to you, 
Dick, I know only one calling in which I 
think your talents would find full scope.” 

“ Is it in the ministry ? ” asked Dick 
gravely. 


13 


194 The Queer Home in Rtcgby Court . 

“ No ,” said Jason, a trifle more solemn thari 
usual. “ It is as keeper of a lunatic asylum. 
You could enter into the caprices of each in- 
mate, with just that sympathy needed for 
their control.” 

There was a universal giggle over the tea- 
cups. 

“ I feel it,” said Dick, with equal sobriety. 
“ I regard my life among you all as the best 
preparation for that.” 

The giggle subsided, and they let Dick 
alone afterward, as it was safest to do, unless 
very sure of the result. 


X. 


“ God who gives the wound, sends the cure.” 

— Don Quixote. 

“Oh, mother! Lotte has come back. I 
saw her in the street,” cried Tom, bursting in- 
to the parlor, one afternoon ; “ and she is 
awfully pretty, if her hair is just like hard 
pulled molasses candy ; and she talks funnier 
than ever. She said she was coming to see 
us, and I teased her to come back with me to 
dinner; but she wouldn’t. She shook her 

9 

head and said, ‘ Nein ! Nein ! ’ ” 

“ Well, I guess she would have said : ‘ Ate ! 
ate ! ’ if she had come ; for dinner is over long 
ago,” quoth Dick, whose jokes grew worse 
every day. 

“ But, Tom, I saved yours in the plate- 
warmer. It is hot and nice,” said his mother, 
comfortably seated to darn two or three dozen 

(195) 


196 


The Queer Home in 


stockings. “ Then Lotte has really come ! 
Yes, indeed! I would like to see the little 
dumpling. Why, let me see — she must be 
seventeen by this time. Lotte/' she continued 
and turned to Lizette, “ is a German girl whose 
father used to live here in the Court. He was 
a rich merchant, and Lotte, whose mother was 
dead, spent some of her time here ; but the 
most of it in Germany, with her grandmother. 
When they lived in the Court, she spent half 
her days frolicking with my children. ” 

“ Lizette does not know a girl of her own 
age," put in Dick. 

“ It may be just as well for her," remarked 
Fred/stretching his long legs, and upsetting 
the stocking basket. “ In this industrious 
hive, mother will make a little busy bee of 
her, and you know it is not the fashion nowa- 
days for young girls to improve each shin- 
ing hour. It is a matter of common obser- 
vation, that the young woman of to-day is a 
butterfly." 


Rugby Coitrt. 197 

“ fVed Podkins ! ” broke forth Aunt Sabby, 
pointing her darning-needle straight at her 
second son. “ It is no disgrace to be a per- 
fect fool ; for the good Lord Himself makes 
some idiots. But to be a fool by culture is 
another thing. Lately, you have got it into 
your head, that to talk that sort of a way is 
imposing. It is ridiculous ! The woman of 
to-day ! ” 

“ Oh, don’t be hard on young Diogenes,” 
said Harry ; “ he has got his good points, if 
he does hanker after a tub.” 

“ I’ll give him one any washing-day, and 
soap and water too,” muttered Aunt Sabby, 
still irate. 

“Yes, I must go and see Lotte,” said 
Harry. “ Don’t you remember, Fred, how we 
used to fight over which should have her for 
our little wife when she grew up, and how 
one day she disgusted each of us by an- 
nouncing, that one Dutchman was worth a 
dozen Yankees ? ” 


198 


The Queer Home in 


Fred was sulky and would not answer; but 
Aunt Sabby, placid again as a May morning, 
began to give Lizette a detailed account of 
the maiden so suddenly introduced to notice. 
When she had been silent a while, Harry said 
quietly to Lizette: ‘‘You do not know any 
one outside of our family, do you ? ” 

“ No ; but I have not wanted to know any 

one else.” 

€> 

“ I, for one, feel flattered by that.” 

“ Oh, you need not be ; perhaps if I knew 
some other boy of just your age, I might like 
him a great deal better than you ; but I do not, 
and so I am satisfied. Now, when you speak 
of a young girl, it does seem to me I would 
like to know one, to see what they are all 
like.” 

Harry, who had winced a little at being 
called a boy, laughed long and loud at Liz- 
ette’s last declaration ; then he fired his shot. 
“ What an unsophisticated creature you are ! 
Mother has not done her duty by you. You 


Rugby Court. 


199 


are as simple as when you came out of the 
wilds of Canada ; she ought to have pushed 
you out to look at the world.” 

“ Oh, I have had the benefit of your vast 
knowledge of it. Why won’t that answer as 
well, my dear Sir Self-conceit ? ” 

Harry lazily admired his long white hands, 
and laughingly remarked : 

“ Run and get your hat, Lizzie, and I will 
take you around to the Library with me.” 

She hummed a song softly to herself, as if 
she had not heard, and only attended to him 
when he meekly explained that it was a beau- 
tiful afternoon and he would be grateful for 
her company. After a sacrifice of a little 
more time to her dignity, she smiled upon 
him and went after her bonnet and shawl. 

When she came back, she stood waiting a 
moment for Harry, lightly swaying herself 
upon one foot in the open door-way. The- 
ophilus rose up from his low chair, and com- 
ing close, looked her from head to foot. The 


200 


The Queer Home in 


bright shawl and light hat resting on her dark 
hair and half shading her face, gave her so 
pretty and girlish a look, that Theoppy patted 
her hand, saying : 

“You look nice — mighty nice, Lizzie.” 

“ Do I, dear— to you ? Well, I am glad 
of it.” 

She bent down and touched her full red 
lips to the little blue-veined forehead, push- 
ing back tffe thin white locks to make a place 
for her kiss. 

“ How does it feel ? ” he asked solemnly. 

“ How does what feel ? ” 

“ I think I mean, how is it to be nice and 
not to feel ? ” continued the small mystery. 

Seeing Lizette’s look of blank inability to 
answer, he tried to make it clearer. 

“You know I aint real pretty; it isn’t any 
matter, mar says, because sick folks ever 
aint ; but what is it like to be nice and to 
remember only just, you know, when you 
happen to see your legs and arms and things 


201 


Rugby Court . 

that you have got him and not to keep a 
feelin’ um, sometimes one a-aching — some- 
times another,” then he added apologetically : 
“They never ache all at once, and they 
don’t always ache bad ; but I never forget 
’um, that’s what I mean. You do, don’t 
you ? ” 

“Yes,” said Lizette, humbly, as if in her 
long life of health she had some way cheated 
this puny mortal, by having an undue share 
of good. 

“ Oh, don’t look sorry about it,” said The- 
ophilus, with a weak little treble laugh, which 
was quite sincere ; “ Billy says, never mind my 
legs — there is lots of jolly times — some a- 
goin’, some a-comin’, and I can have ’em all. 
It’s so, aint it? ” 

Harry arrived just then, and Theop drew 
carefully out of his pocket a book-mark, which 
he sent to Felix, with an effusive message of 
good-will. It was unique, but not beautiful ; 
for the “ Friendship’s offering ” worked there- 


202 


The Qiteer Home in 


on in blue worsted, read like this : fReinD- 
SSHiPPs OfERing. In fact, as Harry said 
to Lizette, w{ien they were outside the gate, 
“ It looked just like Theophilus.” She only 
answered questioningly : 

“ Theophilus is a very contented child ? ” 

“ The happiest bird in the whole nest, as 
my beloved mother always says.” 

The young people sauntered slowly around 
the Court, finding amusement in everything 
that caught their eye as they passed into the 
busier streets and reached the Library before 
they thought it time. 

They opened the great outer door and let 
it swing back noiselessly behind them before 
they stepped into the quiet of the place. 
Here and there some reader bent over a book, 
and with one exception, quickly noted by the 
new-comers, everything was as usual. 

Felix was nowhere to be seen, and at the 
desk where he always stood was a stranger, 
who by his nervous officiousness plainly 


Rugby Court . 203 

showed that he had not long held sway 
there. 

“ Felix has been turned out,” whispered 
Harry ; “ poor old fellow ! You stay here by 
the door until I leave my book, and then we 
will go and find out about it.” 

He left Lizette a moment, then returning 
they went out together. The building was 
in a grove of old trees, and as the two came 
out again into the warm sunshine, they struck 
out toward a side gate and through the deep- 
est shade. When half-way out, they came 
suddenly upon Felix, resting upon a rustic 
bench, with a big bundle of books and other 
articles. He had been working ; for the large 
drops of sweat stood out on his forehead, off 
which he had pushed his rusty hat ; but his 
face wore a more untroubled expression than 
it had for weeks. • 

“ Oh, you are here ? ” said Harry, a little 
awkwardly. 

“ Yes,” said the old man, making room for 


204 The Queer Home in 

them to sit down, by pushing the bundle off 
the bench. “ I set here just now thinking as 
I see how blue the sky was and heard the 
bees and birds and grasshoppers, that I had, 
maybe, spent too much time indoors and now 
the Lord was giving me a chance to see 
more of His lovely things goin’ on outside.” 

He waited a minute, and then pointing his 
thumb over his shoulder, added : 

“ There is a new man in my place ” — catch- 
ing his breath a little — “very nice young 
man he seems to be ; said I could come in 
and show him about the order of things any 
time I choose.” 

“ I wish the nice young man was in Hali- 
fax,” said Harry. 

“ Oh, no ! Probably'that young man is put 
there for some purpose that couldn’t be ac- 
complished any other way. • The older I get, 
Harry, the clearer I see there is more than 
one big ‘I ’ in the world. God looks down 
on millions of these ‘ I’s \ Did 


you ever 


Rugby Court . 


205 


think of that ? We are always a-looking 
from the inside, up ; if sometimes we would 
look from the outside, down, we’d see that 
taking care of one * I ’ must not be sacrificing 
all the other ‘ I’s ’ to it. That young man 
may be for that place in there, and not this 
old one out here. I’ve been realizing, as I 
sat here,” said Felix, dropping out of ethics, 
“ that he will have the handling of books 
that never felt any fingers but mine ; it most 
seems as if they’d know the difference. But 
don’t let us talk that. You’ll think me always 
worrying, Miss Lizzie. Now tell me where 
you are a-going? For some nice merry-mak- 
ing?” 

“ No, we only came out for a walk,” said 
Lizette, thinking how spotlessly neat the little 
Librarian kept his much- worn clothes. 

“ Yes, and to give you this,” said Harry, 
laughing, as he brought from his pocket 
Theophilus’ book-mark. Felix regarded it 
with actual admiration, and taking from the 


20 6 The Queer Home in 

books at his side, his favorite “ Complete 
Angler,” laid it carefully between the leaves ; 
then he said: 

“ Harry, I wish you could persuade Cliff 
to keep his place as assistant.” 

“ It is no good,” said that youth, suddenly 
appearing from the trees, with his blonde hair 
tossed by the wind and his homely face red 
with exercise. “ 4 United we stand — divided 
we fall !’ You might talk until this time fort- 
night and I’d be of the same mind. These 
Directors insulted you, and I aint saint 
enough to forgive ’um worth a sixpence. If 
one of ’um fell into a pit, I do suppose I 
should pull him out — I’d do that much for any 
donkey ; but as for being under the thumb of 
that pink-eyed possum in there — excuse me ! ” 

“Pink-eyed possum” was neither clear nor 
elegant, yet Harry inferred from the past 
conversation that he meant the new Libra- 
rian, so he did not try to influence him as Felix 
wished. 


207 


Rugby Court . 

“ What are you going to do ? ” he whis- 
pered instead, as Lizette diverted Felix’s at- 
tention for a time. 

Cliff stretched his thin legs and blinked 
dubiously, before he whispered in return, “ I 
could get plenty of work and small pay — • 
enough to keep one ; but there are two,” and 
by a significant grimace he gave Harry to un- 
derstand the difficulty of getting work suited 
to Felix’s age and capacity. “You see,” he 
whispered, still lower, “ the blessed old ba- 
by don’t know anything about the pushing, 
driving work that common folks keep a-going. 
All these years in that dim old place have 
gone like a psalm tune with him, slow and 
easy, slow and easy, you know. He’ll get the 
hair all worried off his scalp and the few teeth 
cheated out of his jaws, before he has been 
outside forty-eight hours — that is, unless I 
keep hard at his heels.” 

“ He spoke of a book-store once,” said 
Harry. 


208 


The Queer Home in 


“ I have been to every book-store, and every 
stall, and every auction-stand,” said Cliff, in a 
tone of decided discouragement. “ Nobody 
wants a clerk or assistant of any kind. Felix 
isn’t smart-looking enough to get a chance in 
a flourishing new place, and the stands and 
stalls are all on their last legs.” 

Felix turned around smiling and said: 
“ You young people ought to go on and get 
the benefit of this beautiful afternoon ! It is get- 
ting late and Lizette won’t have her walk out 
before supper-time. Take her along, Harry — 
take good care of her, now and hereafter.” 

The simple old fellow hesitated before he 
gave the least possible shade more of em- 
phasis to this last word, thereby causing an 
odd twinkle in Harry’s eyes. 

Tone and look were each lost on Lizette, 
who laughingly remarked as they went on : 
“Felix commends me to you, as if you were 
my natural guardian.” 

“ I am willing to be.” 


Rugby Court . 


209 


“ I am not willing to have you. I don’t 
like responsibility, and where the guarded was 
wiser than the guardian there would be a re- 
versal of relations. But what is going to be 
done with or for Felix ?” 

“ We must call the family council.” 

“ Well, then, never mind our walk. Let 
us go home and tell Aunt Sabby I ” 

“ I do mind our walk.” 

“ Then you go and take it, and I will take 
a shorter way home.” 

“Don’t you enjoy my society?” 

“ Oh, nonsense ; yes, of course ; but what is 
the use of dandling around doing nothing, 
when we might go right about doing some- 
body a good turn.” 

“ Come home, then,” said Harry, a little 
' nettled, “and I have only a word of advice. 
If you propose to say just what you mean, 
you do need to get acquainted with some 
other young lady. She can show you nicer 
ways of putting things than you now have.” 
14 


210 The Queer Home in 

“ Indeed/’ said Lizette, with bland indiffer- 
ence. “ I see that is something you can not 
teach me.” 

Harry did not speak to her until they 
reached home ; but she actually never noticed 
his silence, so busy was she thinking of Felix. 

“ Children ! ” called Aunt Sabby that night, 
a while after tea. “ I want to have a family 
council. Where shall I hold it ? ” 

“ In the garden,” shouted Dick, who was 
half-way there, with Marjory riding on his 
back. 

“ Yes, come to the garden,” roared Billy, 
getting out of his kitchen apron and putting 
up the last cup on the shelf. 

Fred caught the echo and sent it on. 
Theophilus mounted the stairs and rapped on 
his father’s door, then descended to find 
Lizette. 

“ Come, then/ all of you, to the arbor,” 
said Aunt Sabby, bustling out into the soft 
evening air, toward a great rambling old 


21 I 


Rugby Court . 

summer-house, overrun with wisteria, and 
having wide entrances that let in plenty of 
sunshine. There were commodious seats in- 
side, and a carpet of turf, which Billy and 
Tom delighted to keep exquisitely fresh and 
green ; indeed, they disliked to have it step- 
ped on at all. Not much has been made of 
these last-named youngsters, because the 
reader knows dozens of boys just like them 
— boys with average consciences and enor- 
mous appetites. Billy did a great deal of work 
when he could not help it ; he detested stories 
with morals applicable to himself, and was 
forever claiming the lion’s share of everything 
that was going, and then getting mad and re- 
fusing to have any, if he could not have what 
he wanted. Tom had a face like a new moon, 
and its only change of expression was from 
a narrow grin to a wide one. He was too 
slow to be funny himself, but he considered 
the world, in general, a sort of big joke, and 
his brother Dick the point of the whole. Billy 


212 The Queer Home in 

and Tom “got along so well together/’ as 
Fred said, that “ they always made a team of 
it.” Billy would fly into a rage and pummel 
Tom’s breath half out of him, before the lat- 
ter found out it was not all sport ; and by that 
time, Billy had worked himself good-natured. 
Then Tom was the boy who took all the ac- 
cidents ; and there has to be one such in al- 
most every family. All diseases and mishaps 
passed over the other children and alighted 
the one on Theophilus, the other on Tom. 
They were the domestic lightning-rods for 
calamity, so to speak. 

But to return to the council. It was Aunt 
Sabby’s habit, whenever she thought it feasi- 
ble, to call the children together and submit 
family questions to their consideration and 
judgment. We must premise, however, at the 
outset, that there was no formality about the 
proceedings on such occasions. 

" Pa can’t come,” said Theophilus, march- 
ing down between the lettuce beds, with a cat 


Rugby Court. 


213 


under each arm, and his chintz sick-gown 
floating behind him in the evening wind — • 
“ that is, he says he won’t, if you can get along 
without him; he is writing letters.” 

“ I can,” said Aunt Sab, succinctly, as she 
gazed about her to see if the arbor held all 
her flock. “ That is, because Jason and I al- 
ways agree. I never happen to remember a 
single case in which we did not think just 
alike.” 

Lizette bit her lips, with a comical thought 
of the twins, who were “just alike, only one 
was more so.” 

“ No, I would never undertake anything of 
which Jason did not approve, after I had faith- 
fully tried to make him see things in the right 
light. I promised to obey my husband, 
though he never said I had got to. I had a 
beau once, and he sent me a sermon on that 
subject ; next week we went to church, and 
the minister read, * The husband is the head 
of the wife/ and then he poked his elbow 


214 


The Queer Home in 


against my arm, and said, ‘Do you hear that?’ 
Yes, I heard that, and a kind of a warning 
voice behind it. So, next time he sunk all to 
mush and melancholy, and asked me to mar- 
ry him ; I said, ‘No; I thank you, sir.’ ” 

“ What became of him ? ” queried Theophi- 
lus, lost in doubts as to what mush might 
mean when coupled to melancholy. His 
mother’s free use of language often baffled 
him. 

“ Oh, he married a meek little creature, who 
went to heaven after a while,” said Aunt Sab, 
dismissing the subject with a wave of her 
hand, and then turning to Fred, saying, 
“Come, now, Freddy, state the case before 
us to-night.” 

Fred never wasted words. He said, after 
a moment’s hesitation: “Old Felix has lost 
his place at the Library, and now has nothing 
to live on ; Cliff, too, is out of work, and the 
question is : ‘ Can we do anything to help 
them? ’ ” 


Rugby Court. 


215 


“ That is it in a nut-shell, Fred. I sort of 
digress when I begin such a story. Yes, the 
question is, what can we do ? for something 
we must and can do. We must not only say 
to Felix: ‘Be of good cheer;’ but we must 
‘ help our neighbor ! ’ ” 

Theophilus carried out a laborious calcula- 
tion with Marjory’s pretty fingers that laid’ in 
his ; then he said, “ I will give nine shillings 
and seven cents.” 

“ It’s his money for the aquarium,” whisper- 
ed Tom to Billy, adding, without a definite 
idea why, “and we have got the same.” 

“Yes, and we’ll keep it; you see ’twouldn’t 
go' any ways,” muttered Billy. 

“ I’ll sacrifice the cats,” said Dick, demurely. 

“ We don’t want the money, Theoppy, 
dear,” said his mother, “though I’m glad to see 
you ready to give it. We want advice now.” 

Theop did not know how Felix could live 
on advice ; but he stroked his little sister’s hair, 
and kept still until he should find out. 


21 6 


The Queer Home in 


“ He might be a sexton, if there was any 
church,” remarked Aunt Sabby. 

“Yes,” said Dick, “or a captain, now, if 
anybody had a steamboat to give him.” 

“ Richard, don’t open your mouth again 
this evening, unless you can say something 
worth saying. The idea of making fun of your 
poor mother ! Why don’t you propose some- 
thing for Felix yourself? ” 

“Very well, I can! Let him come over 
here and make bread for the family in my 
place. Pay him what the job is worth, and 
you will support him and relieve me.” 

There was a general shout at the proposi- 
tion, for Dick was having a sorry time to pay 
for his joke with Harry. His mother play- 
fully reached out to cuff his ears, but he dex- 
terously reversed himself out of the arbor and 
into a mignonette bed, out of which he came 
up with a hollyhock behind each ear. 

“ Couldn’t you get him something to do up 
at the college ?” suggested Aunt Sab, turning 


Rugby Court . 217 

to her eldest son, in whose influence she had 
great confidence. 

“ As a Professor ? I don’t believe, my be- 
loved mother, that he could find ‘ one vacant 
chair ; ’ however,” he added, more seriously, 
a second after, “there is the janitors place. 
I really think he might get that. They had 
an uncouth fellow there that the boys detested, 
and used to call old ‘ Pig Iron.’ He has gone, 
and since then different ones seem to attend 
to things around the building. It would be 
steady employment, and the work couldn’t be 
very heavy. If it was, why, Cliff could help 
him.” 

“ That is a capital idea ! ” cried Aunt Sabri- 
na. “ I knew you would think of something. 
Now, you go up to the college to-night, and 
see the authorities, whoever they are. A 
little exertion on your part might get Felix 
into a tolerably easy position.” 

Harry caught the respectful glances of the 
lesser Podkins’, together with a smile of en- 


2l8 


The Queer Home in 


couragement from Lizette. He pushed the 
hair from his fine forehead with affected care- 
lessness, and modestly remarked that Felix’s 
fitness, and not his influence, would secure the 
place for him. When the dew began to fall, 
Aunt Sabby withdrew with Marjory ; and 
Theophilus, Billy, and Tom roamed off to 
sail a toy-boat in a pool around the Court 
fountain. Dick laid his red head on a pump- 
kin vine, and sang, at the top of his by ; no 
means melodious voice, a singular sort of a 
ditty : 

“ Tell me, was I born ! 

Tell me, did I grow ! 

Fell I from the blue 

Like a drop of rain ? 

Then, as violets do, 

Blossomed up again? 

Why am I so frail ? 

Why am I so small ? 

Why am I so pale? 

Why am I at all ? ” 

At this point in his sentimental queries, 
Aunt Sab’ y put her head out of the kitchen 
door and pathetically remonstrated : 


219 


Rugby Court. 

“ Dick, why will you disturb the whole Court 
bellowing so like a moon-calf! Go down- 
town and see why those potatoes did not 
come home ! ” 

“ What a thing it is to have a suggestive 
parent,” returned Dick. “ Now, I have al- 
ways wondered what under the sun the ‘ cow 
jumped over the moon ’ for — if there was a 
moon-calf, she thought it was hers, and went 
for it.” 

The kitchen door shut before he ended, 
but he rose up cheerfully and went for the 
potatoes. Harry good-naturedly asked Fred 
to join him on his mission to the college ; 
which was just what Fred was longing for, 
but was too dignified to ask for. 

“ Do your best,” said Lizette, leaning on . 
the gate, as they walked away together. 

“ I will,” said Fred ; but Harry turned and 
assured her he would, as warmly as if she want- 
ed the place for herself; then he walked back- 
ward, chatting with her as long as he could. 


2 20 


The Queer Home in 


She stood there a long time in the moon- 
light, but was not thinking of Felix or of 
Harry; she was pondering on what Aunt 
Sabby had told her of the young German 
girl. She was sure it would be pleasant to 
know her. 

“ Well, Harry, what success ? ” cried his 
mother, outside his chamber-door next morn- 
ing. 

It was Fred’s “turn” to get breakfast; so 
a very sleepy voice answered : “ It is all right. 
I went to the college, then to Felix, then back 
to report — Felix goes into office to-morrow.” 

“Good,” responded his mother. “Now 
get up and tell me all about it.” 

But for the next week Aunt Sabby had no 
time to think of Felix or any other person 
outside her own home. She was fighting the 
old weary battle with and for her husband. 
The big house rang with the laughter of the 
noisy boys, and no stranger could have 
guessed that within that outer circle of happy, 


221 


Rugby Court . 

careless creatures, were two such weary souls. 
Lizette could hear the tramp, tramp of Uncle 
Jason’s feet on the room above her until even 
Theophilus wondered what made “par so un- 
easy.” It might have been purely a fancy, 
but Lizette half-believed Harry had come to 
have a suspicion of the truth. If he had, he 
betrayed it by no curiosity, only by a very 
watchful and kind care for his mother’s health 
and comfort. Indeed, vigilant as was Aunt 
Sabby, and heedless as were the children, it 
would have been very strange if she had been 
able always to keep her sad secret covered. 
In these days, it grieved Lizette to see the 
dark rings about her eyes ; her slow footsteps 
and sudden loss of all her humor. Peevish or 
fretful, she never grew. How could she, when 
not a night passed in which, no matter how 
exhausting had been the day, she did not talk 
to her Father in heaven ? 


XI. 


“ ’ Mid foreign woods you’ll long in vain 
For your paternal mountains green, 

For Deutschland’s yellow fields of grain. 

And hills of vines with purple sheen.” 

— Freilegrath. 

It was a warm, sleepy afternoon, and Liz- 
ette, with the very best intentions of im- 
proving her mind, had seated herself in the 
depths of the great, comfortable parlor-sofa, 
and prepared to read a volume of Macaulay’s 
History. Marjory had brought in a basket 
of flowers, and knelt by her on the floor to 
arrange them in a shallow dish. As we have 
said, Lizette’s intention was all right, but the 
room was so unusually quiet it required no 
effort to understand what she read, whereas, 
she was generally used to concentrate all her 
mind on the page before her, on account of 
the boys’ noise. Scon a little drowsiness 

(222) 


Rugby Court . 


223 


crept over her, and she began to get Mar- 
jory* s verbenas and heliotropes mingled, in 
thought, with Courts and Parliaments ; then 
the book slipped toward the carpet, and Li- 
zette was fast asleep — gone to that border- 
land whose history has never been recorded. 
It might have been an hour later when she 
suddenly opened her eyes and kept them 
fixed in wonder on th^ spot where she had 
last seen Marjory. There, in a little chair op- 
posite her, and playing with a bunch of pan- 
sies, sat a young girl of about her own age. 
She was very, very fair, and a wee bit inclined 
to be fat, yet of a dainty, shapely figure, with 
soft brown eyes and a pretty, child-like face. 
What struck Lizette at first, was her long, 
light yellow hair, which hung around her like 
a veil and trailed out on the floor. Lizette 
winked rapidly to assure herself that she was 
not still dreaming; that she really saw this 
charming little body in Aunt Sabby’s rocking- 
chair. Yes, she was real flesh and blood, and 


224 77 ^ Queer Home in 

had a bunch of white blossoms in the bosom 
of her queerly-cut, blue silk gown. With 
Lizette’s first motion, she gave a timid start, 
and then asked, roguishly : “ Wie haben Sie 
geschlafen ? ” 

At Lizette’s increased surprise, she laughed 
outright, pushed back the yellow locks from 
her face, and said again : “ I shall for you 
answer ; you have well slept and awoke to ask 
who may be this new visitor, with the hair all 
so — so — ” 

While she hesitated for a word, Lizette ex- 
tended her hand, saying : “ I welcome her be- 
fore she announces herself. It is Lotte, of 
whom I have heard so much lately.” 

“True, and you are Miss Lizette ; for Har- 
ry did tell me of you. The little Marjory did 
tell me of you also, and make me to stay to 
see Aunt Sahbee that she say is in the street. 
I find myself this day a small little bit homesick 
to be once more in Germany; so I say, I 


Rugby Court . 225 

go visit dear old friends here ; I think, per- 
haps, they do not forget me ? ” 

“ Oh, Aunt Sabby never forgets any one 
she likes, and you used to be a pet of hers, she 
says ; then the boys remember you well.” 

“Yes, we have had funs together in those 
times past — have these children and I. Aunt 
Sahbee too, she was good like a mother to 
me. You live by her, do you not?” 

“ This is my home,” returned Lfzette, a lit- 
tle puzzled with Lotte’s prepositions, while 
Lotte, in turn, was a good deal more puzzled 
over her own. 

“ The little boys are all quite grown ? ” 
asked Lotte, with her fat little hands clasped 
one over the other. 

“ Oh, I suppose Harry is a young man— 
and Fred almost; but the rest are all boys 
yet.” 

“ Harry has been such a nice boy,” con- 
tinued Lotte, brightly. “ He have that time 


226 


The Queer Home in 


always given sugar- eandy to me, and have 
went — goed — gone to walk me a long walks 
by him — also we had many fightings together. 
Then there was Teeopilus, so very like a small 
little sparrow bird, who is most all times ill.” 

Lizette listened and laughed and answered, 
for Lotte’s frank innocence was very attract- 
ive, and commonplace ideas were fresh and 
cunning when put forth in her quaint accent 
and phraseology. 

“ I have, as you see,” she said, “ the hair 
all in disorder ; because of the little Marjory. 
She said she would go make it with flowers, 
and I have let her to do it • now I shall not 
longer leave it.” 

She ran across the room to a mirror — ran 
very lightly, in spite of her being, as Lizette 
now remembered Billy had said, “a real little 
Dutch cherub.” She braided her hair in two 
long braids, and as she wove her fingers in 
and out, she looked admiringly at the yellow 
strands, and. said naively : “ Have I not most 


22 7 


Rugby Court . 

pretty hair? It is my father’s proud; you 
know the German women have not, in gen- 
eral, hair so nice as this.” 

“Yes, it is very beautiful,” said Lizette, 
who suddenly felt herself older than the young 
girl, and almost inclined to pet her as she did 
Marjory. 

“ There, now, I am — what is the funny 
word ? Oh, fixed, as you say. Why are you 
all alone quite ? ” asked Lotte, turning about. 

Before Lizette could have time to answer, 
Aunt Sabby’s genial face appeared in the 
door, and then, literally as well as metaphori- 
cally, she took Lotte to her heart. 

“ Oh, Yante Sahbee,” cried Lotte gleefully, 
when she came to light again from the depths 
of the good lady’s silk mantilla. “ You are 
glad to see me ! This remembers me of the 
old times I play, days long, with the little 
ones. How goes it with the learned man — 
the good Uncle Jason? Amuses he himself 
as ever with the small, black bugs ? ” 


228 


The Queer Home in 


“ Indeed he does, and — ” 

“ Not a bug - of your old acquaintance is 
gone,” put in Billy, popping up behind his 
startled mother. 

“Yes, Lotte, we have not changed much 
in any way,” said Aunt Sabby. “ I can not 
think you have been gone so long ; but now 
tell us all about yourself. I fancied you 
would be marrying Herr Somebody over 
there and turning into a sober little Haus - 
frau. Isn’t that what you call it? ” 

“ Ach liebe Yante /” laughed Lotte, pick- 
ing stray blossoms off the carpet ; for she 
never could keep still. “ How could I go 
marry, for there was not any Herr Somepode : 
there was my grandfather only. We have 
not lived near the city, and I see no ‘ company,’ 
as you have it. I know very well few people.” 

“ And so you came over here to find him ! 
Well, keep your eyes wide-open and perhaps 
you will see the right one this side of the 


ocean. 


Rugby Court. 


229 


“Ya,” returned Lotte, so demurely that 
Lizette laughed outright. 

The little maiden turned her soft brown 
eyes around in earnest inquiry, then laughed 
herself, as she exclaimed : “ Oh, Yante Sah- 
bee, I mean not all the time to be looking for 
him — I mean only that it might be — that — oh, 
what nonsenses I talk ! ” and the honest lit- 
tle German stammered, blushing, as she hur- 
ried to say : “ I delight myself so, to visit 
this dear little home. You can not to know 
how I go all lonesome around and around the 
father’s house. It is so grand, I like it not. I 
cook, and sew, and spin by my grandmother, 
and had all the days a task ; since six weeks 
here there is for me nothing but music. That 
is much ; but not all.” 

“ Music,” repeated Aunt Sabby ; “ oh, yes, 
I had forgotten what a singer you used to be ! 
Can’t you give us one of your old songs? 
There was one Jason liked so much — the tune 
of it haunts me yet,” and leaning back with 


230 


The Queer Home in 


her chin in the air, Aunt Sabby shut her little 
black eyes, and conscientiously, but not melo- 
diously, essayed to sing a few suggestive 
notes. 

Lotte listened in perplexity, then broke out 
suddenly in a voice of exquisite sweetness : 

“ Ich weiss nicht was soli es bedeuten 
Das ich so traurig bin—” 

“That was it, was it not? — the Lorelei? ” 

Aunt Sabby nodded her head in rapturous 
acquiescence ; and Lizette leaned forward to 
catch every note, as Lotte sang on. The 
clear voice stole through the house, and by 
and by each door was full of heads. The 
song ended, Dick strode in and made straight 
for his old-time playmate, unabashed by the 
fact that she was older, prettier, and, in short, 
a young lady now. 

“Don’t you remember me, Miss Lotte? 
You never would agree to kiss me, because I 
was homely and chewed gum. I have no such 
bad habits now, as my mother will be proud 


Rugby Court. 231 

to testify, and you can see for yourself how 
fine-looking I have grown.” 

Lotte glanced at the flame-colored locks, 
which were as radiant as ever ; then laughing, 
held out her hand. 

“ Yes,*” said Dick, passing his hand lightly 
over his hair, as he let her little hand go 
free ; “ yes, it is there ; but then, whoever saw 
a saint without a halo ? ” 

“And is this one here, Theophilus?” 
asked Lotte with a great effort not to say 
Teeopilus. “ He was not very much big in 
these days, I remember. I hope thou art 
not more so ill ; but why is it thou lookest 
younger even than the little Marjory ? Wilt 
thou let me to kiss thee ? ” 

She reached out toward the child, who had 
sedately entered, and a pink flush tinged his 
cheek, as Lotte put her arms about him. 
Everybody was kind to the boy, but caresses 
usually fell to the share of his little sister. 

“ Tell me,” she persisted, “what makes thee 


232 The Queer Home in 

so like to a flower not enough out into the 
sun’s shine?” 

“ Theoppy has the rheumatism just now, 
and it has made him look a little paler and 
more pinched up.” 

Lotte did not quite understand her ; for 
Aunt Sabby rattled off into an exhortation to 
Dick, to wear a more becoming kind of shirt- 
collar ; but she looked very compassionately 
out of her soft eyes, and Theophilus was 
happy. He found a keen delight in watching 
this guest, with such very bright hair and so 
very blue a dress, and such an altogether new 
way of talking with a “ thee” and a “ thou.” 

Lizette always seemed to the children a 
little bit stately ; but Lotte had as many 
nimble motions as a kitten, and in her gentle, 
frisky kind of innocence some way suggested 
one. 

“Yes, Lotte, it is a treat to hear your 
voice again,” said Aunt Sabby, carefully fold- 
ing her mantilla and giving it to Billy to put 


Rugby Court. 


233 


away. “ Not one of my children is a born 
musician. There is Harry — he is so enter- 
taining and can talk so well, I often wish he 
was a singer too ; but as Don Quixote, or 
Sancho, I forget which, says : ‘ If we have a 
good loaf let us not look for cheese cakes/ 
By the way, Dick, where is the dear boy ? ” 

“ I left him lying on his back in the arbor 
gnawing a chip. If you make your ‘ good 
loaf’ comparative with an er, Lotte will know 
just what he is, if he is not a singer.” 

Aunt Sabby detected sarcasm in Dick’s 
solemn tone ; but Lotte did not understand 
it, and she did not want to, so she only an- 
swered : 

“ I don’t believe he is chewing a chip ; but 
what if he is — go and call him ! ” 

Dick departed, and finding his brother 
where he left him, first told him that his 
mother was sorry he was not a “ cheese- 
cake,” and by and by added, that Lotte was 
“ in there,” and he had better go and see her. 


234 


The Queer Home in 


Harry arose forthwith, smoothed his hair, 
twitched his cravat into shape, and started for 
the parlor. Aunt Sabby, in the meantime, 
had gone about getting a supper that should 
do honor to her guest. The boys insisted 
on having it in the garden, and as usual car- 
ried their point. Tom brought out a long 
light table of his own workmanship, and set 
it on a grass plot near a bed of blooming 
day-lilies, and in the glimmer of lights and 
shadows from the arbor. Fred came with 
the linen and silver, and Marjory made a 
center ornament of many-colored china-asters. 
In the kitchen Jack was paring peaches, 
Theophilus carefully skimming a big pan of 
yellow cream, while Aunt Sabby flew from 
stove to pantry and back again with Billy 
after her. As Dick said : “ The chief cook 
was lively, and the bottle-washer at her 
heels.” 

All over the big, cheerful house, the outer 
and inner doors were thrown open, and to 


235 


Rugby Court . 

the young foreigner, who had been for weeks 
shut up in the solitary grandeur of a great, 
newly-furnished house, all this merry stir and 
bustle seemed in the atmosphere of an earthly 
paradise — or as if the flowers, the sunshine, 
and the children had agreed together to hold 
perpetual high carnival. 

Harry exerted himself to the utmost de- 
gree to make himself agreeable. He knew 
it would please his mother, and the young 
fellow was really very amiable. He expressed 
great pleasure in hearing Lotte sing again, 
and called for song after song, that much to 
her surprise he well remembered. As for 
Dick, he made her laugh, until, as she said, 
she “ be-shamed herself.” She was as happy 
as a child on a rare holiday; when Uncle 
Jason, aroused by the music, came down to 
welcome her, and took her back for a brief, 
honorary visit to the “ small black bugs ” of 
her early recollection. In all of the sociabil- 
ity, Lizette took a quiet, but a hearty part. 


2 3 6 


The Queer Home in 


She did not talk so very much as she might 
have done to Lotte ; but the latter felt her 
friendliness, and every now and then turned 
to her for a sympathetic laugh, or caught her 
hand in a girlish caress. Once as they stood 
together in the porch, Aunt Sabby called 
Lizette ; and as she went to her down the 
garden walk, Lotte watched her curiously. 
She was so tall and slight, and held her head 
so haughtily, bending it with a gentle grace 
when she 'spoke, that one thought her first 
proud and then meek. Harry, too, looked 
after her, and did not seem to come back 
from any far-away region of thought, when 
Lotte said : 

“ How much is she like the princesses in the 
children story-book, this so handsome cousin 
of you ! I must all the time admire her.” 

“Who?” asked Fred; “Lizette, do you 
mean? Is she pretty? Upon my word, I 
never thought to see after I knew I liked her. 
Isn’t she thin ?” 


237 


Rugby Court . 

“ Are you a Hottentot to want her a beau- 
tiful lump of fat?” asked Harry, scornfully. 

He was too preoccupied to think of the 
rather plump little body at his side, who was 
child enough to be sorry that this “fine-look- 
ing young American ” did not like fat. She 
thought his favorable opinion upon any point 
must be of considerable worth, because Aunt 
Sabby evidently thought so likewise. At any 
rate, he was very kind. He picked with 
great care a lovely bouquet, and bowed with 
grace (“ not like a Yankee”) when he gave 
it to her. He sat by her at the tea-table, and 
put cream on her peaches, and explained 
Dick’s jokes to her — which was no easy task, 
we assure you ; altogether, the young man 
appeared to great advantage. 

“ Billy,” said Aunt Sabby, not long after 
tea, “ I saw Felix come up the street and go 
home just now. You run over to his room, 
and take him this plate of peaches. I don’t 
think he has had any yet.” 


238 


The Queer Home in 


Seeing a transient curiosity in Lotte’s 
glance at her, Aunt Sabby gave her a short 
account of the old man, whom she would 
probably know in the future. She dwelt with 
a little extra emphasis upon Harry’s sympathy 
with, and active efforts for, him, and Lotte 
said : “ Poor old gentleman ; I pity him, to 
have this trouble ; also, I think your son 
must have a splendid, good heart to take so 
very much of care for him.” 

Harry caught just a word of the conversa- 
tion, and laughing, turned to Lotte, saying: 
“ There is a writer, Miss Lotte, who declares 
that everybody is more or less insane on some 
subject. Now, this dear old lady, my — ” 

“ Old lady — ” began Aunt Sabby, but could 
get no farther. 

— “This dear old lady is pretty well bal- 
anced in most respects ; but on the subject of 
her children she is raving crazy. She vows 
we are the nine wonders of the age, and I 
am — ” 


Rugby Court. 


239 


“ I don’t ! I’m not a simpleton ! I was 
telling Lotte about Felix. The trouble with 
you, Harry, is, that you get more conceited 
every day of your life; doesn’t he, Lizette?” 

A mischievous light shone in Lizette’s eyes, 
as she answered : “ I have been used to think 
him perfected in that respect, and so not ca- 
pable of degrees or of progression.” 

“Lotte,” sighed Harry, “there never was 
a sensitive nature so harshly handled as mine 
has been. * I am not mad, but I soon shall 
be ! ’ ” 

Lotte gave a little doubtful “Ya,” and a 
timid laugh. She did not quite know what it 
all meant. 

“ Here is Lizette,” continued Harry ; “ she 
is the most unkind of all to me. I wish she 
would forget her plea of cousinship, and treat 
me the better for forgetting ; as it is, she 
snubs me.” 

“ She schnups you ? ” repeated Lotte, with 
such a comical accent, that Dick was beside 


240 


The Queer Home in 


himself with pent-up laughter ; but Lotte never 
dreamt he found her funny. She only looked 
the least bit reproachfully at Lizette, who had 
done this unknown thing to Harry ; then she 
knelt down in the grass to smell of a tube- 
rose. After a while, the two girls were left 
alone, and wandered about the old garden 
until the evening dew fell over the flowers ; 
and Aunt Sabby, from the house could only 
see their light dresses gleaming in and out of 
the foliage, as they walked, arm in arm. In 
everything Lotte revealed herself as singular- 
ly artless, yet very quick of perception. Liz- 
ette thought more than once, “ I shall not 
learn much of the ‘ world ’ from her ; but if she 
is unsophisticated, she is charming.” 

They went out of the garden at last, and 
the Court being perfectly quiet, they crossed 
to the old fountain, and stood listening to the 
pattering water. 

<f Oh, it is so pleasant here,” cried Lotte, 
softly; “I tink — think,” she repeated, with 


Rugby Court . 


241 


a full th , “ you must so happy be ! All is so 
life-ly and funny in the home, and each — the 
kindness itself- I shall not more be quite 
lonesome again ; for I believe I may see 
you all times that I shall wish it; is this 
not so ? ” 

“ Come to us every day if you choose, and 
you will be welcomed,” said Lizette. 

She meant it sincerely, but she did not 
speak as warmly as she would, had she felt, 
by experience, just what loneliness had lately 
meant to the tender-hearted, motherless girl 
by her side. Lizette had always been self- 
reliant, never known a lasting sorrow, and 
was in the warmest of home-nests. With a 
half-thought of this, Lotte looked at her, so 
tall and erect in the clear starlight, and her 
fancy of the princess of the fairy-stories came 
back to her. She shrank away from Lizette 
as if she had been cold. Everything seemed 
a little dreary again, so she said, nervously, 
“ Now is the time, perhaps, that I go to the 
1 6 


242 The Queer Home in 

house, for when it should be late I would have 
fear.” 

Lizette was watching curiously a shadow 
in the basin of the fountain, and wondering 
from whence it came ; she refrained from 
speaking a second, and in that time Harry, 
who had appeared on the spot, answered for 
her. “ It is now too late for you to go alone, 
and if it were earlier, I should beg the pleas- 
ure of a walk with my old companion. It will 
not be the first time, will it ? ” 

Harry’s voice was doubly cheering, for 
breaking in just then on Lotte’s thoughts. 

She said, “Tank you,” quite forgetful this 
time of her “th;” then went into the house 
to have the last vestige of melancholy ban- 
ished by Aunt Sabby’s urgent invitations to 
come and see them every day, or any hour 
of any day. With a hug from Margie, a bou- 
quet from Theophilus, and a kind word from 
each she started gayly off under Harry’s care. 

Lizette went to bed soon after, and she 


243 


Rugby Court . 

turned her head on the pillow with the reflec- 
tion : “May be Harry will fall in love with 
her ; he is ready for something of the kind. 
She is so cunning, I would, if I were in his 
place.” 


XII. 


“ The strongest are weakest, the wisest are fools, when suf- 
fered to be sifted as wheat in Satan’s sieve.” — Bunyan. 

One bright morning, Aunt Sabby having 
seen that everything in and about the crooked 
house was going on like clock-work, donned 
her bonnet and shawl and started to visit a 
sick friend in a distant part of the city. Be- 
fore starting she looked in upon Uncle Jason, 
and found him deeply interested in the second 
volume of a new work on ornithology. The- 
ophilus, as a great treat, was being allowed to 
look at the pictures in the first volume, and a 
general air of peace pervaded the quiet sanc- 
tum. Aunt Sabby breathed a sigh of relief 
and started off with a light heart. She had 
been gone about an hour when Lizette saw 
her uncle come down-stairs and go out into 

the street. Now, Uncle Jason was usually 
(244) 


245 


Rugby Court . 

very slow in all his movements, and when he 
went out on any little errand, he spent .con- 
siderable time “ fussing,” as his better-half 
called it, brushing his coat and hat, looking 
for his cane, and telling everybody to put his 
window down if it rained. If at any time he 
rose up suddenly and stood “ not on the order 
of his going,” those who knew of his beset- 
ting sin were instantly alarmed, as was Lizette 
on this occasion. She ran quickly to the 
door and called: “Uncle, dinner will be 
ready soon — will you be back ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ; I am only going a block or two.” 

Still very uneasy, Lizette went back to her 
work, and was much pleased when, ten 
minutes later, her uncle returned. He stop- 
ped near the gate to tell Fred about cutting 
down an unsightly tree, patted his pet Mar- 
jory on the head, and then returned to his 
own room, where he had left Theophilus. As 
he passed close to Lizette in the hall, she saw 
for a second what looked like the outline of a 


246 


The Queer Home in 


flat bottle inside his coat-pocket, yet she 
could not tell but that her imagination de- 
ceived her. She made repeated visits to his 
room afterward, under various pretexts, but 
he was as calm and studious as usual. He 
came promptly to dinner, and Theophilus 
with him. As Aunt Sabby did not return, 
the child begged to go back again to the pict- 
ures, and his step-father permitted him. By 
this time, Lizette was entirely off her guard, 
and did not think of the two until Aunt Sabby 
came home, about three o’clock. The good 
woman was hot and tired, so she rested 
awhile before going up-stairs. She was gayly 
chatting with Lizette, when each of them was 
startled by a loud burst of hilarious laughter 
from Uncle Jason, the limit of whose levity 
was usually a smile. Aunt Sabby gave one 
startled look at Lizette and fled to the room 
above. She threw open the door in doubt 
and apprehension. Uncle Jason lay back in 
an easy-chair, laughing to excess. She did 


Rugby Court. 


247 


not need to see the glass and empty bottle on 
the table to know what ailed him, and follow- 
ing the direction of his pointing-finger, she 
saw a new cause for amazement and horror. 
Seated on a shelf among birds, books, and 
jars, and right by the side of the solemn 
white owl, was perched Theophilus Claude ; 
his usually colorless cheeks were crimson ; 
great drops of perspiration stood out on his 
forehead, from which his light hair was pushed 
in wild disorder. His eyes were like stars, 
and he was singing at the top of his cracked 
voice a medley of songs caught from his 
brothers. As Aunt Sabby saw him, she burst 
into tears, and wringing her hands, cried : 
“ Oh, Jason, Jason Bernard ! How could 
you ? ” The man answered her by another 
shout degenerating into a silly titter, and the 
excited — no, the intoxicated child, flinging one 
arm around the stuffed bird, sang loud and 
shrill : 

“ Oh, the owl and the pussy cat went to sea 
In a beautiful pea-green boat ; ” 


248 The Queer Home in 

mixing it up with “ The boy that had an auger 
that bored two holes at once.” There was 
nothing ludicrous to the poor mother in this 
— nay, her patience was well-nigh spent. She 
grasped her husband’s arm, and shaking it to 
arouse him into attention, cried more indig- 
nantly : “ I say, how could you be so wicked, 
so cruel ? Is it not enough that I have 
been to you in all these years, wife, nurse, 
and doctor ; that I have kept our shame from 
every soul outside ; when you, proud as you 
are, would have covered your name with dis- 
grace ? Have I cared for you days, and fol- 
lowed and found you nights, only that you 
should turn about and visit your folly upon 
the weakest child in the house — my child ; 
not yours ? Do you want me to be thankful 
that not a drop of your blood flows in my 
boy’s veins that they need not inherit your 
awful weakness ? Must I now live in torment 
lest that which they do not learn by such an 
inherited disease, you may teach them by put- 


Rugby Court . 


249 


ting- the vile poison down their very throats ? 
This moment, as I think of my boys, I can 
scarcely forgive you for this, Jason Bernard ! 
The time has come for you, if you have any 
manhood, any love for me, any care for 
those whom your example may ruin, to ask 
yourself how this thing shall end. I am sick 
at my soul. I have carried you as a dead- 
weight upon my shoulders, until I could al- 
most lay down the burden in despair. I 
should, but for my hope in God’s help. There 
is no strength in you, and why will you not 
see it ? Why not go to your God and cry 
out to Him for help ? ‘ He will not fail thee, 

neither forsake thee.’ He says : ‘ Thou hast 
destroyed thyself, but in Me is thy help.’ ” 

“ Set dow-down, Sabrina, and take ’little — 
something — you — you’re tired. Theop - op- 
hilus’s weak ; needed strengthening.” 

For the first time in her life, Aunt Sabby 
looked at the man whom she had promised 
to “honor,” in mute disgust. She walked- 


The Queer Home in 


250 

across the room and took down the child, 
who, so soon as he touched the floor, went 
reeling hither and thither. She took the bot- 
tle from the tafde, and held it before him, 
saying, “Jason, have you any more of the 
stuff? ” 

“No — no — more at present — th-thank 
>> 

you. 

She searched diligently in every nook and 
corner, then, taking the child, went out and 
locked the door. She needed to quiet her- 
self and to care for Theophilus. When she 
had bathed the child’s head and given him a 
drink of cold water, she put him on a sofa to 
go to sleep. He did not appear to realize 
that anything peculiar had taken place. He 
said his father thought that he looked sick, 
and gave him a little of- something that burnt 
his mouth, and made him all over hot. He 
fell asleep soon, and she asked Lizette to di- 
vert his mind when he awoke, so that the oc- 
currence need not be spoken of. Aunt Sabby 


251 


Rugby Court. 

herself, as we have said, was angry ; and for 
a little while she felt that she did. “ well to be 
angry.” To be sure, in these times, a power 
stronger than will seemed to overcome her 
husband, yet it also seemed as if in the “ first 
motion of the dreadful thing,” he might show 
more effort at self-control, and not, as it were, 
cast about in his mind for some “ fantastic 
trick.” But Aunt Sabby was too long-suffer- 
ing to retain resentment. She knew that, in 
this mood, she could do her husband no good, 
neither possess her own soul in patience. 
She took her worn Bible, and opening, read, 
“ Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against 
me and I forgive him ; till seven times ? 
Jesus said, I say not unto thee, until seven 
times ; but until seventy times seven.” “ Four 
hundred and ninety times,” she whispered, 
with an odd, flickering smile ; “ I suppose I 
could do it, if grace came with every trial, 
and it must, for ‘ As thy day is, so shall thy 
strength be.’ And, after all, what is the 


252 The Queer Home in 

offense he commits against me, compared to 
the enormity of his sin against God and 
against his own soul ? If, as he says, he is 
not without power over himself, he is surely 
responsible. If, as I think, this demon of 
Drink has him prisoner, he is not the less re- 
sponsible, because there is One able to rescue 
him who is willing — who came to ‘ preach de- 
liverance to the captives ’ and to ‘ set at liberty 
them that are bruised.’ ” 

It was nearly dark when Aunt Sabby went 
back up-stairs. She found her husband sit- 
ting where she had left him, but with his head 
bowed despondently on his hands. She was 
so very glad not to find him restless and ex- 
cited, that she went up, and in a kinder tone, 
if possible, than ever, asked him if his head 
ached. He answered by a groan, and it was 
not easy for her to make him talk. Every 
word she had previously spoken had stayed in 
his memory until he was quite sober, and now 
he was feeling its full force. He suddenly 


253 


Rugby Court, 

raised his head, saying, “ I am going away — 
as you said, this thing must end, at least so 
far as you and the children are concerned. I 
can go away on a long journey — a very long 
one, and you can tell the neighbors it is for 
my health and then — ” 

“ I shall say no such thing, nor allow any 
occasion for it,” cried out Aunt Sabby with 
quick cheeriness. “ ‘ Until death us do part/ 
that was the way it went, I believe. No, sir, 
we are going to have a happy issue out of all 
this miserable trouble, when you are fully 
persuaded of a few things.” 

“ What things?” he asked, gloomily, half 
certain after what fashion her answer would be. 

She waited a second, with a prayer in her 
heart, then her lips uttered solemnly, “ When 
you believe for yourself that ‘ the everlasting 
God/ who ‘ fainteth not, neither is weary ; ’ 
that ‘ He gives power to the faint and to them 
that have no might ; ’ He increaseth strength ; 
that ‘ His grace is sufficient ’ for you — that 


254 The Queer Home in 

* His strength is made perfect in your weak- 
ness ; ’ that ‘ The Lord is faithful, who shall 
establish you and keep you from evil/ Now, 
Jason Bernard, who says all this? Is it not 
God who has said, ‘ These things will I do 
unto you — you, and not forsake you ; ' and 
you remember who says, 4 Heaven and earth 
shall pass away ; but my words shall not pass 
away/ ” 

“ Yes — yes, — that is all most grand to read, 
and true, perhaps, in the abstract ; but how 
can even God take a natural propensity out 
of me? I must conquer it myself, or suc- 
cumb.” 

“ No ; suppose He did not take the pro- 
pensity out of you ; even then He could give 
you ample strength to resist, and never suc- 
cumb, if you rely upon His promise. This is 
your ‘ burden ; ’ ‘ Cast ’ it on Him, and He 
will ‘sustain’ you afterward.” 

In the gathering twilight she could see his 
haggard face and mournful eyes. A great 


255 


Rugby Court . 

pity filled her soul, and she entreated him : 
“ Jason, ‘ God is greater than man ; why dost 
thou strive against Him? ’ Don't you believe, 
that ‘ in His hand is the soul of every living 
thing, and the breath of all mankind ? ’ He 
says, ‘ I know all the things that come into 
your mind, every one of them.’ Don’t you 
think He knows you ?” 

“ Oh, yes, of course.” 

“ Well, can’t you take Him at His word ? 
You have over and over again tried to break 
the power-of this evil spell, and always failed ; 
you have never tried in God’s strength. Will 
you not ? ” 

“ Oh, I tell you I don’t believe there is any 
use in trying it.” 

“ Well, I believe; Lord help my unbelief,” 
cried his wife, with an earnestness given her 
by the words she herself had been quoting 
for him ; then, knowing the need of watchful- 
ness, she hastened to make the room bright 
with light, and sent little Marjory up to coax 


256 The Queer Home in Rugby Court . 

and pet him until he would join the cheerful 
family at supper. In such seasons as this the 
wise wife not only prayed, but she raised up 
every loving influence, every merry home- 
spirit, to help exorcise the demon that had 
crept in among them. This night she was 
successful. Her husband walked his room all 
night ; but he made few and not very urgent 
pleas to be “let alone,” which meant to be 
allowed to go out for more brandy. 


XIII. 


“ Is thy cruse of comfort wasting ? rise 
And share it with another, 

And through all the years of famine, it shall 
Serve thee and thy brother.” 

— Mrs. Charles. 

And so Felix had something to do. Every 
morning the student first stirring found the old 
man already at work, and at night the sweep 
of his broom was heard in the halls until day- 
light faded, and he could see no more dirt. 
He was very grateful to his neighbors, and 
always told them, when they asked after his 
welfare, that he was doing famously. No- 
body but Cliff saw that the new occupation 
wore upon him more and more as the time 
went by. He told Cliff it was only because 
he missed the smell of old leather and print. 

If some old rook should be taken from the 
17 (257) 


258 The Queer Home in 

dim and ancient haunt of all its feathered an- 
cestors, and put into a great aviary, overflow- 
ing with frolicking, chattering birdlings, would 
it not hang its head and pine for the old shad- 
owy solitude ? So it was with Felix. The 
college boys all liked him, and when it came 
easy, did him little favors ; for he never told 
any of their wild pranks, and in his quiet way 
seemed to approve of their fun. Neverthe- 
less, when Cliff asked why his hand trembled 
nowadays, so that he spilled the tea out of 
his cup at supper, he had to admit, “ I sup- 
pose it does come from the not being used to 
it, Cliff — the roaring and continual rumpus, 
you know. But folks can always learn. By 
and by, when I am working away, quiet like, 
in some corner, and a-musing (which is a trick 
I have got to get rid of) — when I am a-see- 
ing things gone and hearing sounds that are 
nowhere any more, and those college chaps 
— bless them ! — unite in one howl suddenly 
as they do — how they can howl, Cliff; I never 


259 


Rugby Court . 

realized voices were so powerful ! I was a- 
going to say, perhaps I shall get used to it, 
and won’t spring up any more and get faint 
around my vitals, as if it was something 
dreadful happened and not their innocent ca- 
pers. They are not a bit vicious, and I have 
been young myself — though I don’t remem- 
ber that at that time — I — I actually screeched.” 

Every night, tired as Felix was, he had 
gotten, or rather his neighbors had gotten, 
him into the habit of spending his evenings 
with them. Cliff went to a night-school now, 
and they told Felix that as the cold weather 
came it would save him trouble and the un- 
necessary building of a fire for a few hours’ 
use. Theophilus had a certain chair for him 
by the dining-room grate, and Marjory made 
him a most easy and grotesque pair of slip- 
pers. When once he was well domesticated, 
Aunt Sabby was always making him take a 
drink of hot coffee or a bowl of savory soup. 
“Something new I have been trying. You 


260 The Queer Home in 

have had your supper, of course ; but do just 
taste it. It will warm you.” 

Certain it was that his heart was warmed. 
Felix, in turn, made pets of the children ; one 
among them being peculiarly his favorite, and 
this one was puny, wizzled-up little Theophi- 
lus. Their chairs were always side by side, 
their slippers warmed together, and the old 
man like a child, and the child most like an 
old man, were firm and loving friends. Each 
of them had infinite patience with the other, 
and both looked out on life in somewhat the 
same gentle, melancholy manner ; above all, 
Theophilus reminded Felix of little Sin. In 
the long, quiet days spent in the old Library, 
Felix had read many and many a story that 
now served him well with the younger chil- 
dren. He could tell to an enraptured audience, 
in very nearly the pure language of their au- 
thors, such quaint tales as the “ Snow-Image,” 
‘‘Peter Goldthwaite’s Treasure,” and the 
legends of “ Sleepy Hollow.” Indeed Aunt 


26 i 


Rugby Court. 

Sabby found his literary lore was as varied in 
kind as hers and much more accurate in de- 
tails. She had long, desultory conversations 
with him upon any number erf topics. To 
this pleasant family party there was frequent- 
ly an addition in the person of Lotte. She 
was anxious to improve in speaking English, 
and this was, of course, an excellent reason 
why she should come and see the Podkins’ as 
often as possible. Two or three times a 
week, therefore, the neighbors saw Miss 
Lotte trip into the Court before the darkness 
settled down over the elm trees, the fountain 
and the lonely white nymph. She would 
come shyly in at the front door of the crooked 
house, with a half-apology for so often ap- 
pearing ; then, her timidity conquered by 
prompt kindness, she could come out in her 
true character of unquestioning trust. She 
could tell stories too — wilder ones than Felix 
gave them — stories of the Black Forest, all 
full of hobgoblins, flame-horses, and gener- 


262 


The Queer Home in 


ally fascinating horrors. At a certain hour 
a grim servant was always sent to conduct 
Miss Lotte home in safety. If, as often hap- 
pened, she wa£ not ready to go, Aunt Sabby 
dismissed the escort, and Harry or Fred af- 
terward went with her — never Dick, after one 
experience. On his first attempt at gallantry, 
he proposed they should walk by moonlight 
through a part of the town called “Jewey,” 
because it was so “ picturesque.” Perhaps it 
might have been, but the moon did not come 
up. Lotte nearly fell into an open sewer, and 
her cavalier added insult to injury by asking 
her if it “did not smell a little like the old 
world?” They reached home at last, and 
Lotte never denounced him as lacking in 
courtesy, but Aunt Sabby would not trust 
him. She declared she never felt sure of 
that boy even in his sleep. 

“ I tell you, children,” said Aunt Sabby, re- 
ferring to these visits, “ it does me good to 
think how we have enlarged our borders and 


2 63 


Rugby Court. 

taken in these lonesome people. Here is Fe- 
lix ; if he had friends that knew him to be rich, 
he would be talked about as a very nice old 
man. Out in the world now it is just as it 
was in old Bunyan’s time : if Goodness walks 
abroad ‘ in silver slippers ’ everybody will ap- 
plaud him, but if he is only an old pilgrim, 
with travel-worn sandals, he may take his 
chances, and there is seldom much room for 
him on the highway. Do learn to recognize 
worth where you see it, and better yet, learn 
to be helpful all the time and to everybody ; 
inviting your neighbor to tea is sometimes as 
Christian an act as going around the world 
after the heathen. Now, Lotte is rich enough 
in gold, but, poor little soul ! her old money- 
bags of a father thinks a silk gown or a new 
bracelet ought to make up for the loss of her 
dear old grandmother in Germany, who loves 
her so.” 

Throughout the summer, Felix kept his 
place, and meekly expressed to Cliff a private 


264 The Queer Home in 

hope that he was getting used to it. One 
afternoon, about the last of October, the 
janitor, as he was now called, noticed that the 
falling autumn leaves had covered the long 
gravel walk before the college building. 
Felix was in most respects as neat as any 
old lady, so he came out forthwith and swept 
everything clean. A score or two of Sopho- 
mores sat on the fence chanting a college 
song. They began to joke him about “ sweep- 
ing the cobwebs from the sky,” and were as 
witty as college boys usually are. He took 
their bantering pleasantly, even attempting a 
facetious response to it all ; then went on 
heaping up the scattered leaves in order to 
burn them — beautiful leaves that did not need 
the touch of fire to make them gorgeous. As 
he worked, he picked up now and then some 
strangely-tinted *bough for Marjory and The- 
ophilus, and often stepped himself to study a 
crimson or purple-veined maple leaf. The 
crisp autumnal wind enlivened still more the 


Rugby Court . 


265 


always lively fellows on the fence and tossed 
about Felix’s white hair, as rudely as it did 
the withered folliage. 

“ Felix!” shouted one, '‘why don’t you 
sing?” Felix looked up and smiled ; he used 
to fear he sang too much in the Library ; but 
here he seemed to have forgotten the trick. 

“ I know,” urged another, “ that you have 
got a thundering voice if you would only use 
it ! Come, now, join in — let us sing this 
lovely melody : 

“When a Freshman gets a new pair of pants — 

He cuts his old acquaint-i-ance 
And thinks he is only fit to dance. 

With loveli-Mari-Ann-Ann 
And the little Freshman ! ” 

Felix’s answer, if he made any, was lost in 
their deafening chorus, and the boys turned 
their faces away after that and let him alone. 
It might have been fifteen minutes later when 
one of them, getting off the fence, exclaimed : 
“ Why, boys ! what ails the Raven ? ” 


2 66 The Queer Home in 

They looked toward the janitor, to whom 
they had given this name, and cut short their 
noisy song to jump down as one cried : “ See ! 
He is lying on his face in the leaves ! ” They 
darted to the spot, and the foremost whis- 
pered: “ Heavens ! boys — he is dead.” 

Felix lay there in the rubbish, just as he 
must have fallen — white and so old. They 
never saw before how worn he was — how 
hollow-cheeked ; and the hand out of which 
the bunch of red leaves had dropped, was 
very bony. 

“Poor old Father! Somebody help lift 
him,” said Dick, with a pale, scared face. 

They could do that easily, he was so light 
in their strong arms, and they carried him 
directly to the President’s house, while Dick 
rushed home for his mother. When she ar- 
rived they had found out, beyond doubt, that 
the old man lived, having fallen in a kind of 
apoplectic fit, which left him quite helpless for 
a time, but perfectly clear in his mind after 


267 


Rugby Court . 

the first few hours. At his earnest request 
they carried him home, and by the next day 
he could move his limbs more freely. At the 
end of a week he was able to get about the 
room and help himself, but had very little 
strength, and from that time his condition re- 
mained about the same. The college boys 
came every day to see him ; the wildest scape- 
grace of them all, shocked people by declar- 
ing Felix “wouldn’t die — the Raven was 
noted for longevity but that same fellow made 
up among his friends a purse, and sheepishly 
brought to Harry funds enough to keep the 
janitor in food and fuel until Christmas ; begging 
at the same time, that nobody should know of 
it, or as he said, “ Don’t mortify the poor old 
chap ; let him think Cliff earns a little more.” 

Cliff took “ famous care ” of Felix, according 
to Aunt Sabby, and the old man was almost 
cheerful when Cliff took his place at the college 
and discharged all duties satisfactorily. He 
talked as if he expected either to be a great 


268 


The Queer Home in 


deal better and able to work, or that he should 
have soon a second fatal stroke. Sometimes 
Cliff fancied that he hoped and prayed this last 
might be the case. The days went by and 
he gained no more strength ; neither did the 
end come. 

One evening in the early winter, Uncle 
Jason brought Theophilus and left him to visit 
a while with the friend whom he missed so 
constantly. Theophilus was “ poorly,” not 
having quite recovered from a recent attack 
of the mumps. His father wrapped him up 
lightly in a blanket-shawl, and put his chair 
close to Felix’s bed ; for not expecting com- 
pany, the old man had retired earlier than 
usual. When his father had gone and The- 
op was cosily arranged for a chat, he put 
his elbows on his knees, and his chin in the 
palms of his hands, while he asked: “ Do you 
celebrate your birthday ? ” 

“No.” 

“ Why don’t you ? I always have mine 


269 


Rugby Court . 

celebrated and I have not had a half or a 
quarter as many chances as you have.” 

Felix smiled at the implied reproach of 
wasted opportunities, then he sighed as he mut- 
tered : “ I wish I could celebrate my last one.” 

“Why, what for? Aint you very fond of 
living ? ” 

“ I have been, but now I have nothing to 
live on. My working days have gone by.” 

“ Well, then, you have got time to play.” 

“ I had not thought of that ; but I don’t 
feel like playing.” 

“ Don’t you ? I shouldn’t wonder then if 
people never did feel like doing the only 
thing they had time to do. I think that so 
often of myseif when I have something. You 
know I always am having something. It 
seems kind of queer that God should make a 
boy just on purpose to break out with rashes, 
and measles, and mumps, and things-; but 
about you — haven’t you got a bank account 
like mar’s, or rich friends ? ” 


270 


The Queer Home in 


“ Friends, plenty of them, and kind ones 
too; but no money, and my right arm is just 
like a baby’s.” 

“ Cliff can work for you ; I would if I 
could.” 

“Yes, he can; but I don’t want him to; 
for how can he ever learn or be anything if 
he spends all his earnings on me ? It would 
not be right to take them, and I never will.” 

“ What will you do ? Don’t you die ; will 
you ? There is nobody else that has noth- 
ing to do but be company for me. Ask the 
college boys for more money.” 

“ No, sonny. Don’t talk about it much to 
folks, but I am going to go to the ‘ County 
Poor-house.’ Cliff doesn’t know it ; but I shall 
be ready to go in a week or so. Maybe I 
can get around to see you some Sunday.” 

“ Oh, dear me ! Don’t go anywhere — live 
right along here just the same. You will 
never have anything but beans to eat at the 
County House — nothing else ; for Harry said 


271 


Rugby Court. 

once paupers didn’t, and folks that live in 
such places are paupers. You’ll be a pauper 
then, won’t you? Besides, when I have my 
birthday party, and celebrate, you’ll have so 
far to come that likely as not you can’t come 
at all.” And as much saddened by Felix’s 
face as by his words, Theophilus laid his 
cheek on Felix’s pillow and sobbed hysteric- 
ally. This hurt his swollen face, and Felix, 
in contrition hastened to change the conver- 
sation from his troubles to Theophilus’ birth- 
day ; but the child was disconsolate. He 
would not or could not be comforted. When 
Harry came to take him home, he went will- 
ingly, longing for Aunt Sabby’s sympathy. 
She had gone out, and did not get home 
until the child had gone to bed, where he 
tossed and tumbled until quite late. Just as 
the elder members of the family were going 
to their rooms for the night, he summoned a 
family council and demanded the privilege of 
choosing his own birthday present* As The- 


272 The Queer Home in Rugby Court. 

oppy had the mumps, never was exacting, 
and everybody was sleepy, the council was 
acquiescent and said yes, immediately. 

“ Then I will have ten hundred dollars for 
Felix.” 

Aunt Sabby began forthwith to protest, or 
rather to explain her financial affairs. Where- 
upon Theophilus, who had not expected a 
word of anything savoring of hesitancy, was 
much chagrined. He told them to “ go to 
bed” if they would not do it ; he thought they 
“ would be glad to ; ” then turning over, he 
buried his little nose in the pillow, and kicked 
his heels around recklessly, with the air of 
one who has “ worshiped idols ” and “ found 
them clay.” Still his heart was so full of pity 
and affection for his sick old friend, that his 
indignation soon faded out again, and he 
stayed awake a long time planning for him, 
that he might not go to the Poor-house. 
Harry heard him talking, as he supposed in • 
his sleep, but he was praying aloud in the 
dark and the quiet for the old Librarian. 


XIV. 


“ In winter’s tedious nights, sit by the fire 
With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales.” 

— Shakespeare. 

On a certain evening in November, any 
person going through Rugby Court would 
have known there must be a great merry- 
making among the Podkins’ and Bernards’. 
Every window of the crooked old mansion 
overflowed with light, and within everybody 
was “ in full dress,” although the only guests 
at this, Theophilus’ birthday party, were the 
children of the neighborhood. Aunt Sabrina 
was resplendent in a crimson satin robe, made 
with so many bias flounces, winding spirally 
around her, that she looked most of all like a 
gigantic corkscrew. She went hither and 
thither through the brilliant rooms, animating 

every one by her cheerful clatter, which ran on 
18 (273) 


274 The Queer Home in 

steadily, something like this : “ Jason dear ! 
do wake up and tell the children what to play 
next. Have you been out to see the supper- 
table ? I set it in the nursery because it was 
such a big room, and it looks just lovely, if I 
did set it : first a floating custard, and then a 
glass of jelly — pure white and bright red — 
contrast, you know ! Why, Lizette, how be- 
coming that blue merino is to you ! Marjory 
would be frightful in such a color, she is so 
dark. And here comes my Lord Harry in a 
new pair of boots. My conscience ! has the 
boy got whiskers coming? You need not 
scowl so savagely — reverything new in the 
world has to have a discoverer ; and you had 
better compliment my sharpness in detecting 
what no one else might have seen. Dick, 
where is Marjory ? Bless me, here is mother’s 
darling ! She looks like a cherub in a picture, 
don’t she, Jason? ‘ May you dance,’ Billy? 
Dance — why, there don’t one of you know 
how.” 


Rugby Court, 


275 


But what of that? Thecphilus was de- 
termined to see how folks danced, who did 
the best they could without knowing how ; 
and so his mother gave her consent. There 
was probably never a dance undertaken by 
lighter hearts and less practiced feet than this 
one set in motion for Theophilus’ benefit. 
Aunt Sabby, aided and abetted by Dick, spun 
around and around, as if the corkscrew was 
drawing corks all over the room. Uncle Ja- 
son was made to stalk solemnly through a 
figure, studying Lizette’s movements by way 
of a copy ; but Theophilus and Marjory were 
the most illy-matched couple, for she, light as 
a fairy on her feet, was powerless 1 6 impart 
her exuberant vitality to her puny brother, 
who did his best, but moved like a stick, by 
reason of a blister on the back of his neck. 
Very soon he paused in exhaustion, and re- 
marked : “I think it is all very nice, mar, if 
Felix had only come. Why wouldn’t you let 
me invite him ? Cliff is here, and he must be 


276 The Queer Home in 

all alone. I aint so hap — You have fixed 
everything very nice for me ; but seeing our 
lights and our home and me being made so 
much of, don’t you suppose that he is lying 
there thinking that he is old and Sin is dead ? 
I never want to be old and forsaken. I am 
afraid I shall be sometime, being so sickly, 
and all my friends may be dead — my family, I 
mean.” 

“ Well ! well ! Methuselah that is to be ! 
it seems to me I would not lay up trouble 
about the time when I should have outlived a 
family of a dozen. It is not exactly modest 
nor very complimentary to the rest of our 
constitutions.” This was Harry, laughing as 
he poked the child’s thin ribs. 

“ Don’t tease your little brother,” said Aunt 
Sabby, kihdly. “ Look here a minute, Har- 
ry ! Has that lace-bow for the front of my 
cap got around over my ear ? Well, I thought 
it had, from the feeling. Billy, love, run up 
to my room and fetch my under-teeth off the 


Rugby Court . 


2 77 


family Bible ; I have been so hurried, I have 
not had them in since prayers this morning. 
Yes, Theophilus Claude, I will make it all 
right for you and Felix. Come to think of it,” 
cried Aunt Sabby, making a dive at Jason, 
catching him by a button, and backing him 
rapidly against the wall, without regard to the 
discomfort expressed in his face — “ Come to 
think, Jason, if Theoppy is going to worry 
about Felix half the evening, perhaps we had 
best give him his present now. And may be, 
after all, Felix would enjoy the fun and frolick- 
ing.” 

Uncle Jason, as usual, agreed with Aunt 
Sabby, and the two slipped out of the parlor 
upon some unknown errand. As they left the 
room, a side-door opened, and Lotte stood a 
moment on the threshold, where she made the 
prettiest picture imaginable. She had at- 
tempted to curl her hair, and it being so fine 
and abundant, she had only succeeded in 
making it into a kind of golden cloud, 


278 


The Queer Home in 


around her baby-like face. She was trying, 
as fast as she could, to get all the fashions of 
dress, manner, and speech of her adopted 
country, and her efforts were the cause of 
much pleasantry. She stood timidly looking 
for Lizette, when Harry, seeing her, stepped 
forward and took her hand. He welcomed 
her so warmly, that her big, brown eyes filled 
with light. 

“ I am very glad you came, Lotte ! I was 
afraid you would not wish to visit with so 
many children ; but we wanted Theophilus 
to have everybody he likes here, and you are 
a particular favorite, as you probably know.” 

“ Oh, how happy was I, that he allow 
me this pleasure ! It have been my very first 
invitation for one party. I have also for it a 
new dress — quite, quite new ; ” then she add- 
ed, gayly : “ Does it not behave me well ? ” 

“ Become you,” softly suggested Harry, 
entirely hiding his inclination to smile. 

“ Oh, I have thought the oder — other was 


Rugby Court. 


279 


the word. No, you need not to say to me 
some nice compliments. I just tell you it, 
that you see I have the wish to very much 
honor the little brother. I go now make my 
congratulations.” 

“ Let me take you to him,” said Harry, 
offering her his arm. “And in the mean- 
time, I shall improve this opportunity to de- 
clare that I never realized, before this mo- 
ment, how charming an effect could be pro- 
duced by the union of foreign beauty and 
American art. Nature and the dress-maker 
have turned you out irresistible.” 

“ Now I see it, that you laugh at me. Ach ! 
Theoppy will not do this. He is the one 
small gentleman that flatters not. Will we 
go ? but he is here ! And how art thou this 
day, little Bruder ? ” 

She stooped and kissed him, pressing into 
his hand a curious gold-coin, as she whis- 
pered : “ Lotte’s birthday-gift for thee. Grow 
strong, little one, and have many, many birth- 


280 The Queer Home in 

days, each more happy than have the other 
been.” 

Theophilus looked up into her glowing- 
eyes, and said very deliberately, as was his 
habit: “I thank you. I love you, and not 
just on account of . this gold, either. When I 
am old enough, I think I shall go to Ger- 
many, may be I will visit your grandmother. 
Anyway, I will marry there a lady very much 
like you — hair and all.” 

“ Bravo ! ” cried Harry, patting his brother’s 
white head. “You are coming on finely! 
Mother will have a daughter-in-law before 
she knows it.” 

“ No, I should tell her of it first.” 

“ Right again, my boy ! And as to your 
wife, get one just exactly like Lotte ; you could 
not improve upon the pattern.” 

Harry turned calmly away, with Lotte’s 
little hand still on his arm; he all the time 
unaware that she was blushing like a peach- 
blossom. An American girl, who had been 


28 i 


Rugby Court . 

“ out ” in society, would have called this 
Lotte a perfect simpleton. She blushed and 
laughed, and grew vexed with entire natural- 
ness ; she had not self-control enough to 
keep the big tears out of her eyes if any one 
hurt her. 

In a few minutes Lizette came to greet 
Lotte, and tell Harry that Aunt Sabby had 
collected her own children from the ranks of 
the neighbors, and for so short a time that 
they would not be missed, wished to take 
them with her to see Theophilus’ birthday 
gift, which was to be a surprise to all the 
younger members of the family. 

Lizette and Theo^iilus quietly withdrew 
then, and soon after Harry led Lotte by 
another door into the hall where Aunt Sabby 
was awaiting them with the rest of heir 
flock. 

“ I go not,” whispered Lotte, drawing back 
suddenly. " It is in the family, sacred.” 

“ And so are you,” returned Harry, taking 


282 


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firm hold of her hand to prevent her retreat. 
“At least to all intents and purposes.” 

“ Yes,” said Dick, “ our family coat of arms 
is an omnibus — full, with somebody on the 
door-step, and the motto, ‘ Room higher up.’ ” 

They left the noisy part of the house for a 
large wing-room, once used as a play-room, 
afterward as a place in which to stow away 
all manner of unused articles. Queer things 
had been seen about this room of late ; but 
the children had solemnly promised not to 
pry into matters or seek to find out what was 
going on. To-night, therefore, as Aunt 
Sabby led them toward the wing-room, their 
excitement was unbounded. Theophilus hung 
on to his mother’s skirts and giggled nerv- 
ously, as she took a key from her pocket, and 
knocking, unlocked the door, saying first to 
her followers : “ Remember that everything 
in here is Theophilus’s.” 

“ Come in ! ” said a voice they were sure 
was Felix’s. 


283 


Rugby Court . 

The door flew open, and in tumbled, tumult- 
uously, Tom, Dick, Billy, and Fred — all stop- 
ping short to gasp : “ Oh ! ” 

There were red curtains (somebody had 
remembered Felix’s taste) and red hangings 
around the big, comfortable-looking bed, wide 
easy-chairs, chintz-covered, and a lounge, a 
table with a lamp and books, a bright, open 
fire, and before it, laughing hysterically, 
Felix. He was a sight to behold, in a spic 
and span new dressing-gown, all yellow 
dahlias and blue roses, and here was Aunt 
Sabby’s taste without doubt. 

« “ There, now ! ” cried the good lady, laugh- 
ing too, until the tears bedimmed her little, 
bead-like eyes. “ We bought him at a price 
so big you never will guess it, and after the 
greatest trouble in the world ! Now he is 
yours, children, but chiefly Theophilus’ as 
long as he lives. Aint you, Felix? ” 

“Bless your dear hearts!” stammered the 
happy old fellow. It was not much of an 


284 The Queer Home in 

answer, but it seemed to suit the Podkins’, 
big and little ; for they swarmed all around 
his chair for a while, and then ran hither and 
thither about the newly-furnished rooms like 
demented bugs. Billy poked up the fire to 
see how the tongs worked, while Tom and 
Dick whooped with jollity over each new 
article discovered, all the time shouting at in- 
tervals : “We’ve adopted Felix! He’ll never 
go home at night now, Theop,” or “ Ma’s 
bought him ! Hurrah ! ” 

Theophilus stood before his present with 
gravity and folded hands, taking the measure 
of it, as it were ; Marjory, the only one of the 
children who had been in the secret, snug- 
gled into a chair, as much at home as if her 
pretty face had rested on its chintz a hundred 
times before. 

“ He is our pet now,” said Billy. “ We 
have caught him and caged him ; ” he waited 
a moment and then added: “ I hope, though, 


Rugby Court . 285 

he won’t go and die without a word if he don’t 
get his bird-seed regular.” 

The memory of a certain other pet who did 
that last, made Billy remorseful, until Aunt 
Sabby said : “ No, he belongs especially to 
Theophilus Claude.” 

“ And he never forgets,” said Tom. 

This aroused Theoppy, and he made the 
first public speech on record against him. 

" No, boys. I never shall neglect him, and 
mar was very kind to buy him. I would 
rather have him than an aquarium. The fish 
get sick, and the water has to be changed, or 
the stones grow slimy ; but Felix is good to 
talk and to talk to, and we love him. I 
thought it would be the aquarium. I think 
he is worth whatever you had to pay. I 
knew he need not go to the county-house ; 
though I did not think of his selling himself 
to us — to me,” he added, patting Felix’s 
knee, with an air of loving patronage. 


286 


The Queer Home in 


“ Yes, Theop,” cried Aunt Sabby, after one 
more hasty survey of the apartment, “ I 
knew you would be delighted. Dear ! dear ! 
you rattle-brained crew, you have nearly upset 
that lamp. Go back to your company, now ! 
Go quick — Felix will keep.” 

She shut the door upon all except Marjory 
and Theophilus. Then crossing the room 
she drew back the window curtain, behind 
which she had all this time seen Cliff skulk- 
ing. Jealous Cliff, who did not like this last 
move in Felix’s affairs, and who did not re- 
flect that both he and his old benefactor were 
alike helped ; for now, Cliff’s time and wages 
could be his own ; and no one wished to 
separate him from Felix’s society. 

“ Come, Cliff,” said Aunt Sabby, in her 
most genial way, and drawing him out into 
the light. “ I want you to put up a sheet for 
shadow pantomime. And a word to you be- 
fore I forget it ! I suppose we have about 
the same as adopted you ; for you are to come 


Rugby Court . 


287 


to Felix any hour of the day you choose. Of 
course, you are first with him, but we can do 
a good deal to make him comfortable now 
until you get married, you know, and have a 
home for him yourself. Oh, you’ll come to 
it! You needn’t grin so ironically. Did 
Harry tell you he had got Felix’s place at the 
college for you, and made an arrangement for 
you to study some time every day there ? Y 011 
don’t want to go into a marble-yard yet. My 
grief! I left an ice-cream freezer on the door- 
steps, and who knows but it is knocked over ! 
In a minute, Cliff, you help Felix out to sup- 
per. It will make him bright to see the 
frolic.” 

Cliff was out in the middle of the room by 
this time, and beaming with restored good- 
humor. He flew at Felix and jerked up his 
collar and cravat, smoothed his thin hair, and 
echoed : “It will make you brighter — yes, do 
you good ! ” 

And verily it did ; either the faces or the 


288 


The Queer Home in 


voices at the bountiful feast, or perhaps the 
coffee — such coffee as Felix rarely tasted — 
made his blue eyes twinkle and a little red 
flush into his cheeks. Aunt Sabby’s children 
always had excellent appetites, and the others 
resembled them ; for such a banishing* of cakes, 
tarts, ^jelly, nuts, and candy amazed Cliff at 
least, but he helped on the attack ; for Aunt 
Sabby’s late and timely speech had cheered 
his spirits. After supper they had a shadow 
pantomime of Punch and Judy, so irresistibly 
ridiculous to Theophilus that his mother had 
to take him out on the back piazza to recover 
and to warn him he might “ break a blood- 
vessel ” if he laughed so heartily. He stayed 
out until he thought he could control himself, 
then he returned to double up in corners and 
carry on private convulsions of levity, beg- 
ging the actors, at intervals, not to be “ quite 
so funny;” especially Cliff, who, as Judy, 
seemed to fly through the ceiling instead of 
the door. After this came quieter games, 


289 


Rugby Court. 

until the party broke up at not too late an 
hour. The last little guest had scarcely left 
the house when some one discovered that each 
friend of Theophilus had, probably by secret 
agreement, brought and left a simple present 
for him in the dressing-roorh — toys, books, 
games, even a little rose-bush in blossom, and 
a tame squirrel. This filled to overflowing 
his measure of happiness. He put them all 
on a table in front of his bed that night, and 
then sat up to gaze at them in rapture. He 
looked, in his quiet little night-cap and gown, 
much like a Hindoo idol behind an overloaded 
altar ; yet, of all Theophilus’ gifts, he felt 
sure none would give him such real and last- 
ing satisfaction as the possession of old Felix. 

The neighbors, when they heard of the 
whole affair, expressed some surprise; but 
Aunt Sabby quieted them once for all, saying: 
“ It was no great piece of benevolence. The 
house is big and the room was empty. Where 
provides for a family of a dozen, there 
19 


one 


290 


The Queer Home in 


must always be enough for another left over ; 
then, we all like Felix. He is a companion 
and a good teacher for the younger ones ; so, 
on the whole, the gain is on our side.” 

It most certainly was; for does not our 
Saviour tell us of the blessing of giving ? 

Perhaps no one enjoyed Theophilus’ party 
more than did Lotte. When Harry left her at 
her father’s door that night, she said : “ The 
little ones all, how they sing and dance, and 
find themselves so merry ! I feel myself even 
so like them. I have perhaps not quiet 
enough been this night ; I had been better not 
so much to laugh it may be ? ” 

“ You have been yourself, Miss Lotte, and 
that is always the best,” answered Harry sin- 
cerely. 

Whatever faults Harry had — indifference 
was not one. A sort of intense kindliness 
always prompted him to make everybody as 
comfortable and happy as possible in the cir- 


Rugby Court. 


291 


cumstances. People sometimes imagined that 
this attention was lavished on them by rea- 
son of their peculiar personal worth or attrac- 
# tion, and so when they found Harry was just t 
as gracious and winning in manner toward 
the next group with which he came in contact, 
they called the young man hypocritical. In 
such a judgment they did him injustice. To 
Lotte, Harry had always been extremely gen- 
tle and courteous. She was never angry 
when the others laughed at her comical blun- 
ders. Indeed, she herself laughed to excess 
when Dick pointed out and greatly embellished 
them for her benefit ; but it was Harry who 
often felt instinctively that she would like 
them covered up, or lightly touched upon, 
and this he invariably did. She remembered 
so many instances of this that night, as she 
sat alone in her room. In all the noise, fun, 
and excitement he had made her at ease, 
cheerful and happy. “ How very good he 


292 The Queer Home in Rugby Court . 

is,” she thought — “ and so they all are then 
singing softly to herself in the moonlight, 
she murmured : “I go no more back to Ger- 
many. I like this great America ; I think I 
stay always by my father.” 


XV. 


“ Evils that take leave, on their departure 
Most of all show evil.” 

— Shakespeare. 

There is nothing truer, as a matter of ex- 
perience, than that often when one does a 
good deed, from the most disinterested mo- 
tives, one immediately receives a reflex bless- 
ing by no means anticipated. On Felix’s en- 
tering the house, it had not once come into 
Aunt Sabby’s mind that he would have any 
influence over her husband ; but she soon saw 
one or two things with delight. Felix had, as 
has been shown, an intense love and admira- 
tion for books. He knew the titles and table 
of contents of thousands, and out of this cir- 
cumscribed knowledge grew in him a pro- 
found reverence for people who had devoured 
their entire contents. A scholar was his beau 

( 2 93 ) 


294 7 " he Queer Home in 

ideal of a man ; and he had, in his simplicity, 
decided that Uncle Jason was a great scholar. 
Now, human nature does like to be set on a 
pedestal and admired, and Uncle Jason was 
very human. To be sure, Aunt Sab was al- 
ways ready to seat herself before him on a 
metaphorical tripod, and re-echo his words as 
those of an oracle, but she was his wife and 
such respect was natural. It pleased him, in 
another way, to have Felix always gravely 
attentive to his concise wisdom ; always pay- 
ing him an homage in which there was no 
sycophancy. He knew, also, that Felix only 
gave tribute to whom tribute was due, and 
this thought really was a wonderful check on 
him. Remembering the many times when he 
could not respect himself, he queried if Felix 
could be expected to do more ; and he men- 
tally vowed that the poor old man should 
never know his weakness. As with all men 
who succumb to something of which they dis- 
approve, so with him ; the shame of detec- 


Rugby Court . 295 

tion outweighed the burden of self-reproach. 
Now, it happened that Felix was not so 
ignorant as Mr. Bernard thought. A few 
weeks before coming under this roof, Cliff had 
worked for a man who told him of a night 
when Jason had gone to a hotel to buy 
brandy, and had been followed and persuaded 
to go home by his wife. Hearing full details, 
Felix could not doubt the story, but he had 
enjoined strict secrecy upon Cliff, and had 
himself resolved from principle, and out of 
pity and friendship, to do the little in his 
power to help Aunt Sabby She overheard 
a conversation one day between her husband 
and Felix that gave her sincere pleasure ; she 
hoped it would weigh a little on her side of the 
scales. They were speaking of Cliff. Felix 
said : “ I am anxious the boy should get set- 
tled into a steady trade. I want him to be an 
honest, temperate workman. He never will 
be anything great, because it aint in him. 
Fve no doubt he came of a very common 


296 


The Queer Home in 


stock ; but he can be good if he aint great, 
as, thank the Lord, most of us can. ,, 

“Yes,” said Uncle Jason. “He has no 
bad habits ; has he ? ” 

“ None at all, that I know of; and I know 
pretty much all about his doings. Fve been 
the most worried for fear he’d get a taste for 
liquor. You see, he may come by it natural- 
ly, and only need a start in order to go to 
ruin.” 

“Yes. If the taste for it is acquired, it is 
bad enough ; but if it is inborn in a man, he 
might as well deliver himself over to the devil 
one time as another.” 

“ Oh, no ; I don’t think so at all,” cried old 
Felix. “ There’s no use in the devil’s having 
him in either case. A man’s will can do much, 
if his will is a first-class article. I know this 
from experience.” 

Mr. Bernard looked at him more curiously, 
and he continued : 

“You look amazed; but if I could show 


297 


Rugby Court. 

you my life for the next few years after my 
wife and child died, you’d know what I mean. 
There is not a man living that ever thought 
of calling me a drunkard ; but if I had only 
kept on, I could have earned my title. You 
see, my life shutting down so like a black cur- 
tain unrolled in a minute, sunlight and every- 
thing going out, I was a man that had lost 
the soul out of his body, and feels as if that 
ought to be dead too, and out of happy folks’ 
way — as if the grave could not be chillier or 
more lonesome than life was without Sin and 
Els — Well, sitting there all day in the still 
Library, I got a fashion of slipping out and 
getting something to warm me ; after a while, 
if I took more, I seemed to let my trouble fall 
off, like a heavy coat. Next I found I could 
not leave the Library often enough, so I used 
to keep a supply in a closet there; and I tell 
you, I don’t like to think how every day it 
seemed more and more impossible to do 
without strong drink — and plenty of it. No- 


298 


The Queer Home in 


body ever noticed I was under the influence 
of it ; but I was constantly. It did not excite 
me much, but made me stupid, or would have 
done so, if I had been asked to do some new 
thing. All the Library work had got so fa- 
miliar to me, I could almost have attended to 
it in my sleep. This went on for about two 
years, until one day — a mighty cold day in 
winter it was, and nobody scarcely had been 
out — that day I felt kind of miserable and I 
drank a good deal oftener than ordinary. 
Toward dark I kept getting confused and 
kept doing the same things over — couldn’t 
tell, either, if everything was all right for the 
night. All at once, as I stood in that great, 
big room quite alone, it came to me that I 
was drunk. I never in all that two years 
had called it that before, but drunk it was, 
and I was ashamed to the bottom of my soul. 
I was a-realizing it when suddenly I recollect- 
ed little Sin. I could see him there in the 
dark like a picture, you know ; little Sin, with 


299 


Rugby Court. 

that silvery hair of his. My heart gave a 
throb, and — of course it wasn’t a vision or 
anything only a memory, but seemed as if 
his sweet, little voice began : 

“ ‘ The honest man, be he e’er so poor, 

Is king of men for a’ that.’ 

Oh, an angel couldn’t have made me hate my- 
self worse. I sank down in a heap on the floor, 
and I said, ‘ King of men ! Oh, you poor, 
miserable wretch ! every half-hour sneaking 
away to drink. Are you an honest man ? 
Aren’t you cheating yourself — cheating the 
world — cheating the Lord that made you ? 
Would your little Sin love you now — would 
he be proud of his father ? ’ I stayed in that 
place until I gave myself such a raking over 
as I hope I may never have to undertake 
again ; and next day (you can rely upon it) 
there wasn’t any liquor in that Library stronger 
than ink, and no bottle bigger than the muci- 
lage bottle. I’ve got a will, and I used it ; 


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but I had a sorry fight ; although it was, as you 
say, only an acquired taste. I never had 
touched a drop as a young man, nor do I 
now as an old man.” 

Uncle Jason had listened attentively, but 
with a show of less interest than he felt, he 
said : “ Still you did prove at last that a man 
can break up such a habit by an exercise of 
his will.” 

“ Well, if you look at it as that sort of an 
experiment, I am afraid I spoiled it.” 

“How is that? You did not drink again?” 

“ No ; and I did begin and go a good while 
by ‘ pure grit,’ then I got so utterly lonesome 
and tired that I was tempted to give up the 
conflict. I should, if the thought had not 
come to me : ‘ God is a very present help in 
time of trouble.’ I pondered over that, and 
then I said : ‘ I will arise and go unto my Fa- 
ther.’ I went, and I found help from with- 
out.” 

“ Ah, yes,” said Mr. Bernard, nervously. i( I 


301 


Rugby Court. 

never doubted an acquired habit could be 
broken more or less easily. It is the hered- 
itary appetite that binds like an iron chain — 
then intemperance is a disease, an insanity.” 

“ That is a hard matter, truly. I do not 
know how much a man could do all alone with 
such an inheritance ; unless believing it a 
disease beyond his cure, he takes it to a 
Heavenly Physician.” 

Uncle Jason rose up and went to examine 
a dwarf pear-tree, and when he came back he 
began to discourse upon horticulture. Aunt 
Sabby, who had been listening, went back to 
her work, whispering, “ Line upon line, and 
precept upon precept.” 


Marjory was sick; for two or three days 
she had been unusually quiet. No one had 
found her dressed in her childish finery for 
some of her fantastic plays. She had not 
wanted to bake small pies ; nor had she once 


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pounded on that instrument of torture, the 
harpsichord. Finally, her eyes began to 
wear the pitiful, sick look one sees in the 
eyes of a pet animal sometimes. One after- 
noon, toward dark, she crept into her bed, 
and when Aunt Sabby found her there, she 
moaned and whimpered more than in all her 
life before, beating on her temple with her 
fists, to show how the blood was throbbing 
there. Aunt Sabby made an ignoble sur- 
render of all her claims in the healing art. 
She rushed out into the garden where the 
boys were playing ball, and sent Dick in hot 
haste for a doctor, and very soon sent Billy 
after Dick, and in a few moments, Harry after 
Billy ; so fearful was she of delay. She went 
half-way down the Court to meet the sleek 
little man, when he appeared at last with his 
leather bag, and then she opened fire upon 
him, with such vehemence that the worthy 
man would have been excusable if he had un- 
derstood that the whole nine children were 


303 


Rugby Court. 

in a critical condition. But he only looked 
attentive and said, “ Yes,” “ Yes, Madam,” in 
such brief intervals as were allowed him. 
When she had led him to her own room, 
whither she had conveyed the child, he 
leaned over the big bed and felt the small 
hands that were flying wildly about the un- 
easy head. Then he shook his own head, 
as doctors always do, and always will, be- 
cause that gesture has an air of wisdom, and, 
moreover, means anything you may wish to 
hope or to fear. 

The next day Marjory was delirious, and 
continued so for several days, tossing and 
tumbling, throwing her arms about her 
mothers neck or trembling in fright, her eyes 
wild and glittering at the voices of the chil- 
dren, from whom she shrank. On the even- 
ing of the fifth day, her head lay quiet on the 
pillow ; the unnatural strength was ebbing 
and a change was at hand. 

“Is it the change?” asked Uncle Jason, 


304 The Queer Home in 

peering over his green glasses at the little 
figure on the bed. 

Getting an evasive answer from the doctor, 
he went softly out, and for the first time back 
to his book and bugs ; there to cower in the 
twilight and weep. His grief, he felt, would, 
after all, be the greatest; for Marjory alone 
of all the children was his own, while Aunt 
Sabby had so many others. The whole house 
was as quiet as if not a child belonged there, 
and only an occasional step on the stair broke 
the silence. After the room was quite dark, 
except for one sickly streak of light that fell 
across the floor and came from a street lamp. 
Uncle Jason heard a noise, and, looking up, 
saw the long, lank form of Cliff by his side. 
He had never been attracted to the boy, and 
felt to-night that the intrusion was untimely ; 
so, lifting his head from the table where he 
had leaned it, he asked a little impatiently, 
“ What is it ? ” 

“ How is she now ? ” asked Cliff, humbly. 


305 


Rugby Court . 

“ I stood two hours under the window ; but I 
couldn’t catch a word to find out by, and all 
the little boys feel so bad and don’t know 
much about her just now. It is dreadful to 
me, because I promised her, for two or three 
days before she took sick, some clay to mould 
an angel out of, and I kept a-forgetting it, 
and she every afternoon swinging on the gate 
a-waiting for me to fetch it to her ! Oh, my, 
maybe she is going to make an angel out of 
herself!” And dropping down on an old 
trunk, Cliff wiped his eyes on his jacket sleeve 
and sighed remorsefully. 

Uncle Jason could not, by even a word, 
comfort him. He sprang to his feet instead 
and paced the room, trying vainly to bring 
himself to think that heaven was better than 
earth for his little dumb girl. But Marjory 
was so sweet, and bright, and handsome, one 
never thought of her as inferior to other chil- 
dren by reason of her infirmity. She herself 
had never seemed to feel herself afflicted. 


20 


306 The Queer Home in 

While the two sat thus in the darkness, the 
door was pushed gently open and Lotte came 
in. She had a brightly-burning lamp in her 
hand and a cup of hot tea in the other ; put- 
ting the lamp down on the study table, she 
brought the tea to Uncle Jason, saying: 
“ They now are sure quite the little Marjory 
is better— much more better. You must to 
drink this that you yourself be not sick. The 
doctor have even this minute told me Marjory 
improve. Since morning have you fasted ; it 
is not good.” 

She even put the cup into his hand and 
stood over him, while he took the refresh- 
ment he needed ; then she smiled graciously 
on Cliff and turned to go, leaving the lamp 
behind her. Cliff followed her down-stairs 
and asked her a few questions ; to which she 
gave such gentle answers that he mentally 
avowed, that if all little German maids were 
so cunning, every one was worth a dozen 
saucy Yankee girls. In the lower hall, Lotte 


Rugby Court 307 

met Lizette and Harry coming from different 
directions. 

“ I am so sorry you have worked so hard 
to-day, Lizette/’ said Harry; ‘'you must be 
very tired.” 

“ Oh, no ! It is Lotte who is tired ; she 
has been here since morning, and has just 
taken Uncle Jason some tea. I am ashamed 
to say I forgot it.” 

“ How good, Lotte ! I did not know you 
were here before,” said Harry, with careless 
politeness. 

“ No,” said Lotte, going on with the least 
little sigh. 

Darkness endured for a night, but joy came 
in the morning, for Marjory slept all night — 
slept all day, or so it seemed to the children, 
who at regular intervals filed by in proces- 
sion to look at her, nestled so snugly down 
among the blankets. 

“ Be-autifully ! Doing just be-autifully,” 
whispered the doctor, no longer non-committal 


3°8 


The Queer Home in 


now the danger was past “ Fetch up her 
strength. Don’t let her get a pull back, and 
she will come out as fine as a fiddle.” 

This last comparison caused Theophilus an 
hour of anxious thought, in his efforts to com- 
prehend it — efforts which were fruitless. Af- 
ter the gloomy death-shadow has stood on 
the threshold of a home, and then harming 
no one, has retreated, Peace and Joy return 
with faces twice beautiful. When Marjory’s 
peril was all past, and the pink crept back into 
her dusky cheeks, the noisy child-life about 
her went on with tenfold spirit. Her mother 
slept again at night. Tom, Dick, Billy, and Jack 
celebrated in a “ candy pull,” which spread 
dirt and devastation broadcast ; while, as usual, 
Theophilus moralized. He wondered with 
Felix if Marjory had died, whether or not 
she would have been born into heaven dumb, 
and learned to talk of the angels, or if there 
was no need of language there, soul answer- 
ing to soul instead. 


Rugby Court. 


309 


“ I should think,” said Theoppy one night, 
quietly drawing off his slippers, and warming 
his small feet on the fender, “that Margie 
would suffer a disappointment in getting so 
near, and then having to come back. I 
should.” 

“Why, child, you would not want to die, 
would you ? ” said Aunt Sabby, glancing lov- 
ingly toward Marjory in Jason’s lap. 

“ If I expected to die, I would want to, of 
course — would you, Felix ? ” 

“Of course,” assented Felix. “ Yes, it is 
a disappointment sometimes.” 

“ Well, Theoppy,” murmured Aunt Sabby, 
mournfully, “ I don’t know but some day you 
will just pucker all up and blow away, and 
never leave a bit of a body behind. Blessed 
little creature ! But I do believe you have got 
an Erasmus.” 

“ Ha/e I, mar?” inquired the child, sol- 
emnly. 

“ Well, I guess that aint exactly what they 


3 TO 


The Queer Home in 


call it, either. It is a miasma, aint it, Jason? 
What was it the doctor called it, anyway ? ” 

“ Marasmus, you must mean — a kind of a 
wasting away.” 

“Oh, yes — ’tis a little different.” 

“ You ought to be more accurate in your 
use of such words,” said Uncle Jason, re- 
provingly. 

“ To be sure I had,” she assented. 

“ Do you mean,” asked Theophilus, cu- 
riously, “that it is like a thistledown, getting 
lighter and lighter, until sometime it gets 
loose, and floats right up in the sunshine, as 
I have seen them ? That is the prettiest kind 
of a way to go, I think.” 

“ Don’t talk so, child,” said Aunt Sabby, 
adding: “ Why, I declare, here it is eleven 
o’clock, and Poor Richard says ‘ Early to bed ’ 
— Billy, never let me catch you with your heels 
on a table again ! Harry, will you see that 
all the doors are locked ? ” And forgetful of 
the unfinished condition of Poor Richard’s 


Rugby Court . 3 1 1 

maxim, Aunt Sabby hurried them all to their 
beds. 

Before long the tick of the clock was the 
only sound in the great dining-room, where, 
on the hearth, the embers faintly glowed under 
their covering of ashes. There was no sound 
until after midnight, when the back staircase- 
door creaked on its hinges, and Theophilus, 
in a red flannel night-gown, glided through 
the room into the kitchen ; he rattled among 
the tin pans of the pantry for a while, and 
then came back to the hearth to make a mus- 
tard plaster. No old woman could have made 
one with more care or circumspection. He 
scalded the mustard in a little tin-cup, cov- 
'ered the plaster, when spread, with a bit of 
thin muslin, and then, opening his night-gown 
front, laid it in onto his chest — squirming a 
little at the first touch of it. Gradually, he 
found the warmth grateful, and cuddling down 
upon the hearth-rug, he whispered away to 
himself: “ There was no great use in waking 


3 12 


The Queer Home in 


mar ; she has been so all tired out with Mar- 
jory, and I could make my own plaster well 
enough. I wonder whereabouts I have got 
that Erasmus ? I feel as if it was in my throat 
to-night ; but sometimes it is my lungs, and 
sometimes my legs ; I never heard of it be- 
fore ; but I guess I have had everything I ever 
did hear of ; so it was time for a new one. 
Oh, dear me, how mean I do feel ! I’m 
afraid ’twarn’t a plaster at all I needed ; may 
be ’twas paregoric, or castor oil, or squills, 
or a sweat, or somethin’ ! I will w r ake her up, 
my throat is so bad, and I am so cold here.” 

Theophilus Claude drew his scanty robe 
around him and ran, shivering, to Aunt Sab- 
by’s bedroom, where he hovered over her 
like a liliputian ghost. He called her twice, 
but she slept on. It would be more truthful, 
if not more poetical, to say she snored on ; 
so that the patient child relented. 

“ I think I will let her alone — she must be 
perfectly exhausted. I don’t know what I 


Rugby Court . 


313 


want, anyway, and may be she won’t. I will 
go back and try to go to sleep. Pretty Margie 
— she was going to die ; first, I will look at 
her.” 

Theophilus parted the chintz curtains, and 
laid his face by hers. A touch always woke 
her, and feeling his little cold nose on her 
cheek, she opened her eyes in fright ; seeing 
him, she smiled, and stroked his face with both 
her soft hands. She looked warm and rosy 
by the light of Aunt Sabby’s dim night-lamp, 
and she moved her lips as if trying to speak. 

“Try, Margie, just once,” whispered the 
little boy; “may be you could — say good- 
bye, brother ! ” 

The red lips quivered roguishly, and kissed 
his. Theophilus was sure she understood, if 
she could not say it. He drew the coverlet 
carefully over her breast, whispered good- 
night once more, and crept away into the 
darkness. 

The next morning Theophilus’ throat was 


314 


The Queer Home in 


sore, and he had to be rubbed with oil and have 
horseradish drafts on his feet ; but no excite- 
ment was caused by his illness, and many 
times a-day Aunt Sabby said she was glad he 
waited until Marjory was better ; at night he 
was worse, and the doctor was sent for again. 

“Doctor,” said Aunt Sabby, “Theophilus 
has something new — a terrible sore throat ; 
what do you suppose it is ? ” 

She spoke with tenderness and solicitude, 
but was wholly unprepared for the grave re- 
ply : “I don’t suppose — I know; the little 
boy has diphtheria.” 

And now there is little to tell, and that lit- 
tle so sad, why should we linger over it ? 
Death, strong and terrible, came down upon 
the puny child, who made a few weak strug- 
gles, filled up the measure of his brief life’s 
suffering, and succumbed. Then not one of 
the bright young crowd around his bed could 
believe that Theophilus was dead. Would 
they never see the little brother sick any 


Rugby Court. 315 

more ? They were accustomed to seeing his 
face drawn with pain ; but they expected the 
wan smile that always lit it up afterward. 
Harry caught the small, stark figure to his 
breast and hugged and sobbed over it ; while 
Aunt Sabby was almost beside herself with 
grief. She declared she had been cruel — 
neglectful — the child had been growing weaker 
every day, and she had not realized it. 

“ Oh, my child ! my child ! ” she agonized, 
mother-like, as if it had been her all. The 
children went wandering about horror-strick- 
en. They recognized through their tears, 
everywhere traces of the little one — such 
homely things : his liniments, and bandages, 
and cough candies. They felt for the first 
time what life had been to the child — not sun- 
shine, and vigor, and jollity, as it had been to 
them ; but something quite different. They 
had never thought of Theophilus as “pi° us ; ” 
for he had not preached like sick children in 
good books. He had only loved them all so 


316 


The Queer Home in 


much, never asking to be petted, accepting 
all his little woes, sometimes with wonder, 
but very seldom with complaint. It suddenly 
came to each one of them that he would be 
missed now, as may be none of them would 
be; yet, when old Felix gathered them to- 
gether at twilight and talked of Heaven, they 
almost acknowledged it best that Theophilus, 
having come near, had not, as he said of Mar- 
jory, “ suffered a disappointment, but had 
gone in.” Felix’s quiet grief was very poign- 
ant ; it drew the family closer to him, and he 
drew near to them. Was Felix, not The- 
ophilus, present — the one possession of which 
he, child, could give as he believed, a will and 
testament, and, indeed, as a bequest, was Fe- 
lix ever after regarded. 

Outside the family, people said: “One of 
those nine children is dead ; but it was the 
sickly one.” 

How could strangers know the pathos of the 
little arm-chair always to be empty, because 


Rugby Court 317 

out of it had faded a weird face, a quaint figure ? 
Gone — vanished forever ! And yet, wild win- 
ter nights, when the children’s voices had 
waxed noisy again, the laugh went around 
and the fire crackled; Felix used to fancy he 
felt the touch of a light hand again on his 
knee, and saw small, slippered-feet by his on 
the fender ; so, in his heart, and in the ten- 
der memory of the mother, the child never 
died. The rest of the world soon forgot he 
had ever lived; unless sometimes an idler, 
stumbling over a tiny grave, would stop to 
laugh at the headstone of “ Claude Theophi- 
lus Podkins,” as one may laugh over yours 
and mine some day. 


XVI. 


“ Formed from out that very mould 
In which the dead did lie, 

The daisy, with its eye of gold, 

Looked up into the sky. 

— R. C. Trench. 

The fair blue forget-me-nots have three 
times crept over the graves in the old Cana- 
dian churchyard, and the snows of three win- 
ters have made white hillocks there, since 
that morning twilight when Lizette stole 
away from home in her row-boat. * The old 
church has changed as little as Father D’Hul- 
lin, who sits on the topmost step of the porch, 
with Jacque looking gravely over his broad 
shoulders. Three years have made a man 
of Maurice ; who, though slight in figure, is 
very tall. The marble-like regularity of his 
features would make his face too passionless 

if it were not for his magnetic eyes and the 
(318) 


Rugby Court . 


3*9 


sensitive flexibility of the muscles around his 
mouth. Never were there two brothers more 
unlike than these D’Hullins, between whom, 
just now, no light jnatter was weighing in 
the balance. Father D’Hullin sat with a 
startled and yet stupid expression on his usu- 
ally placid face. Maurice, who stood directly 
before him, had one arm wound around the 
great gilded cross planted in front of the door. 
His left hand was outstretched toward Father 
D’Hullin, as one in sudden excitement im- 
ploring attention. 

“Yes, I must speak at last! Forget you 
are a priest — be only my brother until I have 
ended. I can not, I will not go back to the 
college ! ” 

“ Not go back ! Why, you have six months 
yet to stay there before — ” 

“ Before what ? Before that which will 
never be. I tell you, and I mean it irrevoca- 
bly — a priest I will not become, never ! And 
now, if you knew the long agony that had 


3 2 ° 


The Queer Home in 


wrung these words out of me, you would 
pity me. Don’t — don’t,” he cried, as if he 
feared his brother’s reproach, or may be, 
curse. 

“ The thought of your anger and the dread 
of your grief have worked already a punish- 
ment ; if that was needed.” 

Maurice stopped, his head bent as if to re- 
ceive a thunderbolt ; and yet, now that the 
words were out, there came sudden relief, 
like the faintness of one just off from the 
rack. He clung closer to his support a mo- 
ment, then raising his eyes, sought those of 
his brother, into whose face came slowly 
dawning intelligence and quicker wrath. 

“ Not go on? Study for years and give 
up now? You were never fickle. Is it your 
eyes ? No. Are you sick, crazy — melan- 
choly perhaps ? ” 

Father D’Hullin had arisen, and seemed 
to be questioning himself rather than his 
brother. 


Rugby Court . 


3 21 


<f No — but I should die under the weight 
of a priest’s robe. I do not believe — or I 
only half believe, and yet do not know why 
I believe so much that I must accept — so 
much that I must hereafter teach the people 
for truth absolute and complete.” 

An angry groan interrupted Maurice but a 
second; a groan repeated at intervals, for 
Father D’Hullin could not speak. But the 
first utterance had powerfully wrought upon 
Maurice ; he came nearer, and at the very 
foot of the old porch, cried out impetuously : 
“ Who am I to stand between God and other 
men’s souls ? No voice ever called me. I 
know myself but little, I know Him less, and, 
if a man should come with his burden of un- 
confessed sins to me, there is no spiritual 
power that would give me the physical 
strength to say I absolved him. I should 
sink — suffocate ; for who knows God does 
permit such absolution ? Who knows but 
that instead of pardoning souls through me, 


322 


The Queer Home in 


He may not rather, for my presumption, let 
their damning deeds be all laid to my ac- 
count? Don’t speak! Don’t curse me! I 
know in the past it has always been 'The 
Church. The Church has power ! ’ It may 
be so. God may have set His seal upon 
some, and they may know that what they 
loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven, and 
what they bind on earth shall be bound in 
heaven.” 

Again, Father D’Hullin would speak, but 
could not; for Maurice impelled the attention 
he gained. “ It may be so with you. Your 
life and your goodness is all that at first 
saved me from the loss of all faith and relig- 
ion ; but I tell you, God has set no seal upon 
me. If I should stand up before the world as 
His vicegerent, the consciousness of hypocrisy 
would paralyze me, brain and hand.” 

“ You fool ! Oh, you fool ! ” roared Father 
D’Hullin, recoiling for the effort; and at the 
unprecedented tones of his master, Jacque 


323 


Rugby Court . 

flew into the bushes as if struck by a stone. 
“ Fool ! Fool, I ought to curse you ! ” 

Nevertheless, he did not curse him ; but 
stopped, as if constrained to silence when 
Maurice broke forth again: “You will not 
do it. You must not thrust me from the 
Church, for I am not faithless. I love, with 
heart and soul, all that I can understand or 
can see in it that is good — No, wait,” 
cried Maurice, again stretching out his hand 
entreatingly. “ You think I have no right to 
judge what centuries have sanctified ; but I 
have ; and I dare tell you, a priest, that I 
believe the sanctification of much in ‘ The 
Church ’ is from the centuries and not from 
God.” 

The rage of Father D’Hullin was beyond 
bounds ; but concentrated thought gave Mau- 
rice the advantage and he talked with an 
energy there was no gainsaying. 

“ Though you should curse me as an unbe- 
liever — though you excommunicate me on 


324 The Queer Home in 

earth — I know I am not given over to God’s 
anger. After weeks of agony, His peace has 
come to me, a dawn after a night of years, it 
seems to me, as I look back through the time 
I spent at college. I love my God, I love my 
fellow-men ; but I can not stand as inter- 
preter between them. There is a cave, back 
here in the woods, where, lying on my face, 
I have prayed for visions like the Saints of 
old — prayed for hours, and there the Saviour 
has come to me— not in an actual form, I sup- 
pose, although my own flesh has been so 
weak from days of fasting, that I have half 
believed the glory of a visible presence filled 
the place. I have worshiped there in spirit 
and in truth. But out of the experience of 
just such hours as that, has come to me the 
resolution never to take upon myself the 
vows of a priest ; ” and breathless from excite- 
ment, Maurice paused at last. 

Now that Father D’Hullin had an oppor- 
tunity to execrate, reason, or expostulate, he 


Rugby Court. 


325 


did nothing but stand still ; while grief, anger, 
and surprise contended for the mastery. He 
was attacked in his priestly character, wounded 
in the house of his friends and of his Lord. 
He himself had never doubted, never suf- 
fered, never, if the truth was told, expe- 
rienced raptures. Why must this stripling 
have done so ? Religion was a sensible, 
practical matter. It consisted in decent be- 
havior in the present, and timely thought for 
the future, and, of course, love to God and 
man — this was simple enough. A priest’s 
religion did not differ from his people’s, and 
the Church conferred his office upon him. 
Why, in the name of everything proper and 
peaceable, must Maurice out with this hue 
and cry about standing between God and 
men, and being up before the world ? 

What could the fellow become after his five 
years’ hard study, if not a priest ? Then to 
think of the scandal of it among the brother 
priests, and at the college ! Father D’Hullin 


326 


The Queer Home in 


had been too often accused of laxity in disci- 
pline, and undue liberality in practice to an- 
ticipate with calmness a new ecclesiastical 
commotion. It was anything but pleasant to 
have the report go abroad that his teachings 
and example had made of his brother a rene- 
gade and a heretic. It could not and must 
not so turn out. Across the priest’s brain 
flashed a politic thought : to threaten, to per- 
suade, to work in any way upon Maurice, while 
he was in such a white-heat of excitement, 
would only steel his purpose. Let him get cool 
again, and then — meet the calm reason er, 
Father Vignon, whose power of persuasion 
had only once failed. But even Lizette had 
to flee ; she could not argue her case, and it 
might be so with Maurice, who could not well 
run away. Therefore, to Maurice’s astonish- 
ment, Father D’Hullin rose up and turned 
toward the church- door; at the threshold he 
turned back with an after-thought. Maurice’s 
pale face was still all aglow, not entirely from 


Rugby Court . 32 7 

within, because the reflected sunshine from 
the great gilded cross so beautifully enlight- 
ened his features, that through Father D’Hul- 
lin’s agitation, came the suggestion of 
his favorite picture : “ The Ecstasy of St. 

Benedict ; ” nevertheless, he asked, with a 
hard laugh : “ Do you still call yourself a 

Catholic ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ Only you have curtailed your creed to 
suit your taste.” 

“ Be patient with me, Auguste ; I believe in 
Christ — in the resurrection of the dead — in 
faith— in works — justification, not by them, 
but by that faith. Beyond this, I am feeling 
ground, and ground is failing me, where I once 
thought all firm.” 

“Justification by faith was the howl of that 
old dog, Luther ! A Lutheran — an apostate 
then ! ” 

“ Not a Lutheran — only a Christian ! In 
Christ’s name you can recognize me as His ; 


The Queer Home in 


328 

for He says : ‘ Take heed that ye despise not 
one of these little ones.' I have not caught cant 
from any sect, I have only done what a priest 
may do : read the Bible — read, and re-read.” 

“ You are speaking once for all.” 

“ Once for all.” 

“ Have you thought of the trouble you are 
making for me — of the disgrace you bring 
upon yourself? They tell me I have always 
been blamably easy, and I believe it ; but the 
Church is not indulgent to such as you. You 
insult the college and the priesthood.” 

“ Do you think I have not thought of it all ? 
but if my conscience is at rest, I must endure 
it.” 

“ And while you are enduring, what shall 
you be doing? You could have peddled fish 
with less Latin in your head, and saved much 
time and trouble.” • 

“Yes,” said Maurice meekly; “I have 
wasted time, perhaps ; but knowledge can be 
made available in more than one way.” 


Rugby Court . 


329 


* “ I suppose you could pretend your sight 

had failed; though, in time, that would be 
found a pretence.” 

“Yes; and that I can not pretend to be 
that which I am not, is the very plea on which 
I draw back; so I can not be hypocritical to 
save myself from hypocrisy. No, I have re- 
solved upon this ; I will tell the whole truth 
— clear you from all suspicion or blame, and 
then go.” 

“Where?” 

“ I can not tell yet : but somewhere, surely, 
I can earn my daily bread, and just now I do 
not need more. 4 Sufficient unto the day is 
the evil thereof.' ” 

“ The evil of this day has been more than 
sufficient,” muttered the much-tried father. 

He sat a while growling in impotent rage, 
behaving a little, had he but known it, like 
his own big dog, when under great provoca- 
tion. Then getting up, he entered the church, 
and alone, in a dingy little confessional, sat 


330 


The Queer Home in 


down to meditate. After all, he had some- 
times feared Maurice would undertake some- 
thing extraordinary. For a long time he had 
been restless and morbid, then thoughtful 
and studious, then again perfectly listless, 
and altogether inexplicable in conduct. 

When Father D’Hullin left him, Maurice 
dropped down on the warm turf and pillowed 
his head in the soft grass of a mound. The 
sweet, mild air blew cool across his hot fore- 
head. The great white clouds floated over 
the blue surface above him, and he was 
through and through conscious that the secret 
of months was lifted like a weight from his soul. 
There was an intense peace even in the weari- 
ness that followed his ebbing excitement. 
He was sincerely sorry for his brother’s cha- 
grin and disappointment. Lizette had, a few 
years before, gone contrary to his wishes and 
thwarted his plans ; now, in Maurice’s case, 
when both wishes and plans meant much 
more to Father D’Hullin, he was again to be 


Rugby Court . 


33 1 


troubled. Maurice’s thoughts wandered from 
his brother at the recollection of Lizette. 
What and where was his former friend ? — the 
light-hearted, bright young girl whose path 
so abruptly turned off from his ? The young 
man’s life had been somewhat narrow and 
austere ; a life with little society, few amuse- 
ments, and much unacknowledged loneliness, 
with nights of study, days of restlessness and 
wandering, always without companionship, 
save that of rocks, woods, and water. Every- 
thing free and joyful — every genial associa- 
tion was in some way connected with a past 
wherein Lizette had lived and moved. Mau- 
rice, the boy, loved Lizette with a love that 
must grow stronger, if not extinguished, and 
he, being more mature than she in character, 
knew this in some degree. Lizette, without 
reflecting thereon, expected to retain her af- 
fection for Maurice throughout her natural 
life. When she left him, Maurice knew that 
he was learning his first lesson of self-abne- 


332 The Queer Home in Rugby Court . 

gation, and, then and after, he felt the sepa- 
ration ten-fold more than she did. He re- 
solved very firmly to kill out forthwith this 
wholly uncalled-for sentiment ; but, to his sur- 
prise, learned, as have others before him, that 
some tender things are most tenacious of life ; 
yet, in time, he smothered this early trouble 
under newer trials. 

This afternoon, as he lay threading his fin- 
gers through the clustering forget-me-nots, a 
sudden thought came to him that flooded his 
face with crimson ; he was free to find Liz- 
ette, and free to love her — a thought that 
would have come to a less noble soul before. 
But, when Maurice D’Hullin determined never 
to become a priest, it was from no ignoble 
motive — from the temptation of no human 
passion. 


XVII. 


“ Oh, how this spring of love resembleth 
^The uncertain glory of an April day : 

Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, 

And by and by a cloud takes all away.” 

— Shakespeare. 

Spring in Rugby Court ! That meant that 
the grass all about the gurgling fountain in 
the center of the Court was bright green, and 
crisp in its freshness — that the new foliage on 
the graceful elms was not yet too thick to 
keep the sunbeams out of the bird-nests the 
robins were building so fast. It meant, this 
particular season, a new roof on Aunt Sabby’s 
house, which gave that venerable mansion the 
look of a grandmother in a too-youthful fore- 
top. It meant a skylight over Uncle Jason’s 
room, for the more perfect illumination of his 
bugs, and a bow-window in Aunt Sabby’s — 
the latter excrescence just where no architect 

(333) 


334 The Queer Home in 

would have put it. Aunt Sabby said it was 
“ grand ; ” and, when she had filled it with 
flowers and vines, everybody admired it to 
her heart’s content. Yes; within, as well as 
without, the crooked house, spring meant re- 
newed life and vigor. If you had entered 
as of old, only by the relative change of the 
Podkins’ head-marks on the cupboard door 
would you know that it was not that year 
that you had seen Jason measure them there. 
Aunt Sabby stood on the east piazza, on the 
morning of which we write, and was appar- 
ently taking a sun-bath. She wore a ruffled, 
short gown over a brocaded silk skirt that 
had figured among the treasures of her first 
trousseau. Her head was adorned with a 
peaked, high-crowned, garden hat, which, 
taken in conjunction with a broomstick that 
she held, gave her a bewitching look, which 
might, in old Salem days, have been her 
death sentence. But sorcery, or any other 
black art, was far from the thoughts of this 


335 


Rugby Court . 

good old soul. She was only watching a 
pretty picture : a young girl and her lover at 
the fountain. Not that it was an accepted 
lover, or that the two had met there on any 
sentimental errand. Lizette had gone first to 
get some fine moss that grew under the 
broken toes of the poor water-nymph, and 
then Aunt Sabby had sent Harry after her to 
tell her to bring some of the mud around the 
roots. Harry, who was now in business in a 
neighboring city, was home upon a visit. 
Lizette had gotten the moss, and stood ad- 
miring its depth and color, while Harry stood 
admiring her. The shining black hair waved 
over her white forehead, and curled up in her 
slender neck. Her eyes were a softer blue 
than when younger, and the brilliant lips 
curled oftener for smiles than for saucy pouts. 
Still, Lizette was no lackadaisical damsel ; 
one saw that by th*e energetic way in which 
she thrust the basket of moss into the hands 
of the handsome fellow at her side. 


336 The Queer Home in 

“ What ails you, Harry? Are you en- 
chanted by the * water-imp/ as Dick calls her ? 
Why didn’t you take this muddy basket in- 
stead of letting it drip on my nice pink cam- 
brick dress ? I must have neglected to im- 
prove your manners when you were at home, 
or else you would not become barbaric as 
soon as you left us.” 

“ This only proves that I need your con- 
stant oversight,” said Harry, with a peculiar 
glance at his companion, who ruthlessly re- 
torted : 

“ That is so — a boy never goes away from 
home but he degenerates as fast as he can.” 

“A boy!” 

“ Yes, a boy. You are twenty-one now; 
but you were not when you went away. You 
are soiling your boots on those weeds.” 

“Yes, a man does need — ” began Harry, 
not heeding her last bit of information, which 
proved that he was preoccupied with some- 
thing of interest. “ A man does need — ” 


Rugby Court . 


337 


“ His own good mother. Oh, there is a 
rainbow, Harry ! I have often wondered 
why there couldn’t be one to this fountain. 
See, it is almost under our feet.” 

“ It will be gone soon. Don’t you know 
the poet says : ‘ The rainbow comes and 

goes — ’ the same poet who tells of a youth 
attended by a ‘ splendid vision,’ but, later as 
a man, perceives it die away 4 and fade into 
the light of common day.’ I have a keen 
perception of how hard that must be. If a 
certain splendid vision of mine were to fade 
away, I should want to — ” 

“ Fade away yourself? Well, young man, 
don’t fade ! It is only the feminine nature 
that is adapted to a decline. But I beg of 
you, Harry, whatever happens to your visions 
— good luck or bad — don’t get poetical ; any 
one who deals in quotations, has such un- 
limited means of torture always on hand.” 

“ Haven’t you a little — the least little feel- 
ing, Lizette ? ” 

22 


338 The Queer Home in 

“ Oh, yes ; but it is chiefly in my elbows. 
If anybody touches me there, I have to laugh 
like a simpleton.” 

Harry pushed an overhanging bit of moss 
into the basket, while Lizette watched him, 
her eyes brimful of fun ; but a bright red spot 
coming out on either cheek. Harry was get- 
ting so meek and so very attentive, and even 
sentimental in all his intercourse with her 
nowadays, she could not pique him or make 
him, as formerly, angry. She did not know 
that she wanted to ; but this kind of talk could 
not go on uninterruptedly, unless — Lizette 
had not thought out what lay behind that 
“ unless.” 

“Come,” she exclaimed; “Aunt Sabby is 
waiting to fill her hanging-basket.” 

“ Let her basket be — hanged — in due time. 
Don’t scowl ; I did not say anything unpleas- 
ant ; but I must say one thing, whether it is 
pleasant or not : Why are you always trying 
to escape what you know I want to tell you ? 


339 


Rugby Court . 

Why will you not agree to that which would 
make us, as I told you this morning, all so 
happy ? ” 

“All! Do I understand, then, that the 
seven Podkins boys propose through you, 
Harry ? How shall I ever settle claims — by 
drawing cuts, as Billy does ? ” 

“ Lizette, do you dislike me ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Do you like me ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Could you love me better ? ” 

“ Oh, certainly ! We love people in the 
degree that they are lovable, and — you might 
be more so.” 

Seeing the young man looked hurt, she 
added, coaxingly : “There, don’t cry! So 
might everybody. What is it you want ? I 
mean — well, I have forgotten what I meant to 
say. But your mother is waiting for us. I 
see her now on the piazza.” 

“ Well, don’t let us disturb her ; the morn- 


340 


The Queer Home in 


ing air is good for her. Now, I want you, 
Lizette, to say that you will try to like me 
better.” 

“ I will try,” she replied, dropping a meek 
little courtesy, like a child. 

“ I want you — ” and this time Harry quite 
blocked up the way, as he spoke with an 
earnestness that banished jesting, — “ I want 
you to say that, if you do like me better, you 
will some day marry me. Answer me just 
this, after so long, Lizzie ! ” 

Lizette first studied the robins, the rainbow, 
and the trees, shunning Harry’s steady gaze. 
“Yes. I suppose so — sometime — may be.” 

“ Say just ‘ yes,’ ” whispered Harry, exult- 
antly. 

“ Yes,” answered Lizette, after a second. 

Harry had to tell her what he thought of 
that answer ; but owing to the time and place, 
he must be perfectly undemonstrative ; more- 
over, in a moment, Lizette took the moss 
again and bade him dig up the requisite 


34i 


Rugby Court . 

amount of earth ; then they went home to 
Aunt Sabby. She had been waiting patiently, 
but then, too, she had watched, and along 
with the morning air she had taken in a 
pretty good understanding of matters. Her 
motherly face glowed with satisfaction, and if 
one could have read her thoughts, they would 
have found them something like this : 

“ I know what Harry is about, and it is a 
mighty pretty morning for such a thing any- 
way. Little feathered songsters making love 
up in the trees, and young human beings a- 
courting under them — just as it always goes 
in books, with everything pretty and always 
ought to go in life. How I laugh when I 
think of Jason’s taking one whole week to 
get it out, and I — so he says — a-switching him 
off the track every time ; because I hadn’t the 
least idea where he had started for. I do 
believe he never would have reached the 
point, if I hadn’t asked him what he sat still 
for and let the candle gutter all down for, 


342 


The Queer Home in 


when I got it ready for him to go to bed 
every night. So different from Podkins. 
Oh, I do wonder what will keep angleworms 
out of hanging-baskets ? Jason ought to 
know — if he don’t, he must find out. What 
else can all his learning be for ! ” 

Then suddenly the good lady broke forth 
in song : 

“ 4 With a soul love-laden. 

On a summer day, 

A mortal maiden 

Gave her heart away. 

The sun was glowing, 

The flowers were blowing, 

And the streams were flowing.’ 


“ Tom, you needn’t sit there and hold your 
sides ! Laugh out if you want to ; my voice, 
I know, is not what it used to be. A sing- 
ing-master told me once, that there was ‘ tim- 
bre ’ in it. Whatever he meant, I never 
could make out. I think he was a block- 
head himself.” And, innocent of any attempt 
* at a pun, Aunt Sabby turned to receive her 


343 


Rugby Court. 

moss and earth from the young couple, over 
whom she had been moralizing. 

Harry was the merriest and kindest of sons 
that morning. He scratched, without a mur- 
mur, his shapely hands on her rose-bushes and 
soiled his snowy cuffs over her flower-pots. 
Aunt Sabby smiled to herself, but said noth- 
ing of her thoughts. 

When Lizette came from the fountain, she 
ran away up to the quaint great room, that 
from the first had been hers and Marjory’s. 
Marjory sat there to-day ; she had grown tall- 
er and lovelier, but had fewer roguish dimples 
about her sweet mouth, and a new, shy 
thoughtfulness in her eyes. The boys did not 
treat her as a kitten or as a plaything now, but 
rather with tender respect. She had given 
up finery and playing on the harpsichord, 
and developed a taste for drawing and model- 
ing most ingeniously in clay. She sat by the 
window overlooking the garden, and was at 
work on a head, which she was moulding. 


344 


The Queer Home in 


She did not heed Lizette, who nestled up in 
the broad seat of the window, and fell into a 
deep reverie. This interview by the fountain 
was not exactly a new experience. She had 
known, for a long time, that sooner or later 
she must say “yes” or no to Harry’s ques- 
tions. And so now she had said “ yes ! ” Well, 
what of it? Not much of a revolution would 
be effected thereby, in anybody’s life. Aunt 
Sabby would be her mother-in-law instead of 
her uncle’s wife ; but she could not love her 
or the rest of the family any the more for that, 
because it was impossible. Harry, perhaps, 
excepted. She leaned out over the casement 
a second, to look at him, with the absurd de- 
sire often felt to scrutinize a well-known ob- 
ject, simply because its relative position has 
been changed. Yes, Harry was very intelli- 
gent and quite handsome — satisfactory when 
not too sentimental. Saucy confidence was 
most becoming to him. He looked up sud- 
denly and caught her peeping down through 


Rugby Court . 


345 


the leaves. A flying kiss went off his finger- 
tips, which knocked Aunt Sabby’s peaked hat 
awry ; but the token did not reach the case- 
ment before the face had vanished. Within, 
Lizette leaned back again and mused. How 
very boyish he was — and she, almost as girl- 
ish. Her life had gone along, each day pleas- 
antly, week by week, until the years had been 
thus far made up. The knowledge to be 
gained in books had come to her easily ; yet, 
of that other knowledge that one learns from 
struggles after right, or the patient endur- 
ance of sorrow, she knew nothing. It might 
truly be said, she had grown up under simple, 
but most healthful influences into a nat- 
ural, happy maidenhood. Her Catholicism 
had been thrown away long before this — al- 
most with her Canadian garments. She had 
readily accepted the forms of Protestantism, 
and gradually grown into the spirit of Chris- 
tianity, experiencing in her individual life its 
most sacred influences. She had not lived 


346 


The Queer Home in 


selfishly ; no one in Aunt Sabby’s helpful, 
kindly household did that. She had taken 
the place of oldest daughter and sister, and 
filled it well. A vague wonder came to her 
this morning, as she sat idly pulling new leaves 
from the woodbine-vine — a wonder that it 
should be her lot to marry Harry and live 
right on, in this sunny old nest ; working, 
playing, loving to the end of the happy 
chapter. Perhaps it was the new life stirring 
all about her, in vine, and earth, and tree ; 
but she was half conscious of a surplus ener- 
gy, of elements of character seldom called 
into exercise. Such a mood, coming upon her 
once, would have sent her to her boat, where, 
hard pulling against the strong waves of her 
great river, she would have felt the wild spray 
and the cool wind on her face — felt and re- 
joiced in it. The memory, for a moment, 
dilated her chest, and filled her eyes with 
light. Then the warm spring air floated 
around her again — the present seemed more 


347 


Rugby Court. 

real, and the sense of monotony almost 
stifling. Her life, impersonated, was like the 
dumb girl at her side, patiently smoothing, 
smoothing the plastic clay. The thought was 
fleeting ; for Marjory, looking up, left her 
work and ran over to Lizette. She stretched 
out her hand and spelled in her own graceful 
language : “ What will you give me for 

this ? ” • 

Without awaiting an answer, she dropped 
into her lap a large, white envelope. Lizette 
picked it up quickly, studied the address, and 
then broke it open ; but she did not look at 
the signature before she exclaimed : “ Mau- 
rice ! ” for out of the letter fell the first forget- 
me-nots of the year. It was quite a lengthy 
letter, and unlike any he had ever written 
before. He wrote like a man all alive and at 
work. He spoke with the intensity of one 
who is hewing out his own way and thinking 
his own thoughts. He told her nothing of 
his future plans, and little of his past experi- 


34§ 


The Queer Home in 


ences. She supposed him looking toward 
priesthood, of course ; yet, if he were indeed 
a Papist, he stood on high ground. He 
wrote : “I believe the man who looks around 
him upon nature, and upon other men with 
contempt ; who renounces the world and the 
things of it with loathing, dishonors himself. 
It is enough that here is his home and work- 
ing place for the time being ; that all things 
are suited to his needs and uses, and are en- 
nobled by being so.” Then, again: “I am 
perfectly fearless, so far as the world is con- 
cerned ; it can not harm me. What is there 
really fatal in tribulation, or distress, or per- 
secution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or 
sword ? The world is full of them ; but in 
their utmost severity one gets through them 
at last, immortal that he is, and is not a whit 
the worse for them. And if the world can do 
us no harm, neither is it indispensable to us. 
We did not bring it with us ; we leave it be- 
hind — that is to say, we are independent of 


349 


Rugby Court . 

it. Our great trouble and anxiety for time 
seems so curiously misspent. Yet, with all 
this, for truth, life seems now to me one mag- 
nificent opportunity. After four years, I have 
found in the Gospel of Jesus Christ not death 
and despair, but life and hope. I can do you 
no greater service, Lizette, than to ask you 
if you are living — if you will live as I have re- 
solved to : not afraid of the world, with all its 
sorrows and disasters ; not a slave to its hard 
service ; not eager for its treasures that pass 
away ; but redeeming the time, only getting 
out of this life the best there is in it. Let us 
be fearless, contented, simple-minded, patient, 
and in earnest. But, Lizette, you will cry 
out that I am preaching to you far worse than 
ever of old.” * 

Throughout this whole letter, Maurice 
wrote like a man possessed by his religion. 
The Maurice of the past had not been like 
this. She remembered winter evenings when 


Quoted in part from unpublished MS. 


350 The Queer Home in 

they had read together a little book called the 
“ Fathers of the Eastern Deserts,” and that 
then it was she who had been most enthusi- 
astic with admiration for Sts. Basil and Je- 
rome, Sts. Gregory and Chrysostom: while 
Maurice had been calmly critical of their lives 
and characters. Now, he seemed saying with 
St. Basil : “ I have given all to Him, who has 
received and preserved me for His portion.” 
Lizette had supposed Maurice must be growing 
narrow, yet this letter was not written by a 
bigot. She would scarcely have thought it 
could be written by a Roman Catholic. Fa- 
ther D’Hullin would not have conceived it, 
and for goodness and liberality she held Fa- 
ther D’Hullin far above most other priests. 
Almost at the last paragraph she read : 
“ Would you care to see your old friend? I 
am going to New York soon, and you are 
not so far away, that I would not go much 
farther, if I might see how time has treated 
you.” 


Rugby Court. 


35i 


Lizette clasped her hands in delight, scat- 
tering the forget-me-nots for careful Marjory 
to gather and to retain. Indeed she would 
like to see him ! This would be a change, or 
at least an event in her life, and she must 
have been pining for a change. Maurice 
would bring with him hills, woods, and rivers, 
or something that, by association, answered 
to them. 

“ What makes your face so bright ? ” asked 
Marjory’s white hand. “It was not so happy 
when you looked at me a while ago.” 

There was something spiritual suggested 
by the noiseless motion of Margie’s slender 
fingers in the air. It was always like her 
soul speaking directly to the soul of another. 
Lizette could not answer better than to give 
Marjory the letter, and run down-stairs to tell 
Aunt Sabby, who always rejoiced with those 
that did rejoice. Harry was not overwhelmed 
with delight ; but Lizette forgave him, because 
he made himself so excessively agreeable 


352 


The Queer Home in 


nowadays, that nobody could harbor malice 
against him. They did not go after any more 
earth or moss that day, but sometime during 
its hours Harry must have found her alone 
again and improved his time, for, when they 
gathered around the tea-table, Aunt Sabby 
and Marjory saw what.the heedless boys did 
not : the new gold band on Lizette’s finger. 
Afterward, when clearing the table, Aunt 
Sabby hugged her behind the pantry door, 
and just missed scalding her, by reason of not 
first putting down the tea-pot. She did not 
tell Uncle Jason or any one else immediately, 
only Felix. Aunt Sabby had to whisper the 
nice little secret to him, as she always did 
everything pleasant that happened, or was 
going to happen, in the family. So, the old 
man came behind Lizette that night as she sat 
in the twilight, and stroked her hair gently, 
saying : “ You are very happy, dearie, aint you ? 
May God keep you so, and keep you His own ; 
that is the best — better even than happiness.” 


Rugby Court . 


353 


Lizette did not forget it, because Felix sel- 
dom talked “ good talk.” He was a living 
epistle. The world needs such more than it 
needs talkers. 

Lizette herself told but one person of her 
engagement. She was sitting in her own 
room sewing, the next day, when she heard a 
footstep that she knew, outside the door, and 
then, a second after, Lotte’s interrogative: 
“ Come in ? ” 

At Lizette’s first word she entered, crossed 
the room, and sat herself in the window-seat 
above Lizette’s low chair. Lotte’s face had 
grown more mature, her manner less timid, 
and her language far clearer than when we 
met her last ; nevertheless, she was the yel- 
low-haired, brown-eyed Lotte. 

“ And what is the news?” she asked, tak- 
ing a dainty bit of embroidery from her pock- 
et. “I thought to come to you for an hour. 
Restlessness possesses me, and I am not able 
to stay quiet at home — least of all, if the day 
should be lovely like this one.” 


354 


The Queer Home in 


“ Have you felt that, too ? ” asked Lizette, 
looking up at her. “ I have never, in all my 
life, wished for a change of some kind as I 
have lately. I would go to Africa or to Ice- 
land willingly, if there were any reason for 
the move. I do not tell anybody, because it 
is absurd. I ought to be contented and hap- 
py in this pleasant home ; and indeed I am. 
Aunt Sabby tells about feeling one’s wings 
sprout ; that must be what ails me, that I long 
so to rush away off Somewhere, and see how 
it would seem.” 

“ I do not feel thus,” said Lotte, earnestly. 
“ I would rather be where I am than anywhere 
else ; only I can not, these days, apply my 
mind to the work, as it would be well.” 

“ Do you never want to go back to Ger- 
many ? ” 

“Neinl nein 1 ” said Lotte, as she always 
did, when no was not sufficiently emphatic. 

“That is queer; for sometimes I have the 
most intense desire to go back to my old 
home in Canada ; not, *of course, to stay. Oh, 


355 


Ritgby Court. 

I had forgotten to tell you something delight- 
ful ; Maurice D’Hullin is coming to see me ! '* 
“ Is that true ? The old friend and play- 
mate, and you have much affection for him ? ” 
“ Oh, very much indeed ! ” 

“ He is married ? ” 

“ No. Have I never told you that he — ” 
A knot in Lizette’s thread made a sudden 
break in her speech, and Lotte was giving it 
an interpretation quite her own — rather a 
pleasing one, it would seem from the expres- 
sion of her face. 

“Yes,” said Lizette, conquering the knot, 
and going on disconnectedly, “ I have been 
wondering all this morning how he will look, 
what he will say and do ; while everything 
concerning my past life with him comes back 
to me so vividly. I do not think I ever half 
appreciated Maurice : he had gone beyond 
me before I left him.” 

“ But he comes back now, and you think to 
know him better perhaps ? ” 


356 The Queer Home in 

“ I believe I shall — certainly.”' 

“ That is well,” said Lotte, sagely. 

The two girls sewed a while in silence. 
Outside the window, a bird in an old pear- 
tree began to sing, as if he would burst his 
throat with gladness. Lotte, laughing softly 
in defiance, sang herself— first faintly, then 
louder, clearer, until the whole house and the 
outer air rang with the echoes of her music. 
When she ceased, Lizette clapped her hands 
enthusiastically ; and as she did so, the bright 
new ring caught Lotte’s eye. With the last note 
on her lips, she leaned forward and took Liz- 
ette’s slender fingers in her own plump ones. 

“ Oh, what a pretty band hast thou ! ” 
Lotte never had quite given up this affection- 
ate “ thou.” 

“ Yes,” said Lizette, blushing, not as much 
at that which was suggested by the ring, as 
with an indefinable feeling that to Lotte would 
come the idea that Harry was more her 
brother than her lover. 


Rugby Court. 357 

Lotte did not see the blush at all. She 
only asked, without at first a thought of real 
sentiment: “It is a gift, this lovely ring?” 
Then she added, roguishly : “ Perhaps like 
my German poet’s, it is ‘ Ein Pfand der Liebe.’ 
Do you see through it : ‘ Die Erde und den 
Himmel. Die Neuschen und ihr Land?” 

“ What do I see through it, I wonder ? ” 
said Lizette, thoughtfully. 

She took her hand from Lotte’s, slipped 
off the ring and held it up toward the window. 
“ I see the garden. Aunt Sabby with her 
watering-pot, and the boys making a new 
flower-bed : that is the actual present — the 
ideal future is much the same. Yes,” she 
repeated a moment after, dropping the ring, 
and then trying it on Lotte’s finger. “ It will 
not be different — the fancy from the fact ; but 
each is well enough. Why, Lotte, it fits you 
better than it does me ! ” 

“ It is most pretty. From whence have 
you it, may I ask ? ” 


353 


The Queer Home in 


Lizette replaced it on her finger before she 
answered, with considerable embarrassment : 

“It is my engagement ring.” 

“ Engaged, and to whom ? ” cried Lotte, 
with astonishment. “ Oh, I mean not to be so 
rude. Pardon ! — I think you need not to tell 
me more of this your old friend Maurice — he 
who comes.” 

“ Oh, no ! It is not Maurice at all. It is 
Harry.” 

She expected that Lotte would be surprised, 
and so heard her echo of “ Harry ! ” with- 
out looking up ; when she did so, Lotte’s face 
being turned directly from the window, was 
all in shadow, but she said : “ Sometimes I 
have of this thought ; yet I had not just re- 
membered to believe it. It must be well and 
gives to Aunt Sabby pleasure, perhaps ? ” 

This was a light in which Lizette saw many 
points of the subject, on which she could talk, 
so she dropped her sewing in her lap, and 
leaned her head back in the tall chair, while 


359 


Rugby Court . 

she confided her thoughts to Lotte, as the 
manner of young girls has been since the 
world began. Lotte’s work had gone onto 
the floor some time before ; she sat with her 
head bent forward and her great eyes fixed 
on the golden circle, as if it had been mag- 
netic. When Lizette had said all she had to 
say, Lotte remarked : “I see perfectly well 
that it is all good — quite good. The happy 
home goes on, and all that is bright gets 
brighter. Since only the other day, I think 
to myself, how like a net to catch all sun- 
beams was this your home.” 

The girl spoke with rapidity and much 
more brokenly than usual ; yet something in 
her tones made Lizette think she might be 
seeing against the picture she held up, an- 
other of her own possession — the gloomy 
grandeur of her father’s house. She said 
gently: “Don’t emphasize my home; let it 
be in a fashion ours. You ought to know 
long ago, how we love to take you in and 
make you belong to us.” 


360 The Queer Home in 

Such words could not have hurt Lotte ; 
yet starting, she returned : “ My home, is it ? 
Yes, as the ring fitted me just,” and she gave 
her hand a rough brush, going on in a strain 
unlike anything Lizette remembered from 
her. “No, in truth, the home here is every- 
thing to you ; but it can not so be to me. I 
must make for myself in the world as my 
father advises. Who says that I can not ? 
It comes to me to-day, to travel — to rush out 
as you say, ‘away off/ I, not you, will do 
that. I will go dress — go spend money. 
The father has very much gold and only one 
his daughter to spend ; all that which money 
buys I can have. Why not ? I grow now 
into a most perfect little fool if I more spend 
my time so as I have.” 

A bright red spot glowed on either cheek 
as Lotte spoke almost with bitterness. 

“ What ails you ? ” asked Lizette, abruptly. 

“ Nothing,” answered Lotte, with a short 
laugh. “Do I say something to startle ? I 
had a mood, and is not that my privilege ? ” 


R igby Court . 


36 1 


She shrunk back into herself after that, 
and Lizette tried in vain to banish a certain 
chill that seemed falling into the air around 
them. She was almost thankful when Aunt 
Sabby called them to dinner and Lotte would 
not stay. 


XVIII. 


“ Occasions do not make a man frail : they only show what 
he is.”— T homas X Kempis. 

A great struggle had for months been 
going on in Uncle Jason. He had firmly re- 
solved to see what he could accomplish, by 
one long, tremendous effort of will. He be- 
lieved he could resist the power that every now 
and then rose up within him, like a full-armed 
giant. Not even Aunt Sabby knew how he 
had fought ; for there had come to be this 
one point at issue between them. After so 
many relapses as he had known in the 
past she could not have full faith in his 
continuity of purpose. She was always urg- 
ing him to try and supplement his human 
strength by Divine aid. She never need- 
lessly reproached him with his weakness ; but 

1362) 


Rugby Court . 


3^3 


did try to have him realize it, that he might 
be induced to prove her method of reform : 
man’s will and God’s help. Mr. Bernard was 
proud and inconsistent ; while he confessed 
he had ignobly succumbed scores of times in 
the days gone by, there was to be some glo- 
rious to-morrow, when he should prove the 
strength that was in him, by entirely over- 
coming his appetite. In the abstract, he de- 
clared no one could make any headway 
against such a form of intemperance as his 
own. In particular, however, he always in- 
sisted upon it, in talking with Aunt Sabby, 
that he could. If, worn out by trial, she 
asked, “ Why don’t you then ? ” he al- 
ways answered, “ I am going to do it.” For 
several months he had, and, as we said at the 
beginning of the chapter, the contest had, so 
far, been a success. Aunt Sabby rejoiced, of 
course, at every step that looked like prog- 
gress ; but she rejoiced with trembling. 

Uncle Jason added to his somewhat varied 


364 The Queer Home in 

stock of accomplishments, a great taste for 
gardening. The neighbors often asked his 
advice in regard to their grape-vines and fruit- 
trees. Now it happened one morning, as he 
was walking around the square by the foun- 
tain, a gentleman called him into his yard to 
look at a tree being destroyed by worms. 
The day was warm, and after a walk about 
the grounds, they sat down for a few moments' 
rest on the piazza. The lady of the house 
seeing them there, and ignorant of Uncle 
Jason’s secret weakness, appeared with a glass 
of wine, saying: “I have just opened this 
grape wine. I put it up seven years ago ; see 
if that is not pretty good for home manufac- 
ture.” 

She put the glass into his hand and stood 
awaiting his opinion, with a questioning smile. 
As he took the merest sip, she said : “ Don’t 
be afraid of it ! It must be pure.” He drank 
nearly all arid returned the glass, with praise 
of the wine. It was not much, but it does not 


Rugby Court. 


365 


need a torch to set off a powder-mill ; a 
match well applied will serve the purpose. 
He left the Court a while after this, and at 
the first quiet place he could find, drank a 
glass of brandy. Later, he drank again ; but 
retained will enough to stop then, and try and 
get sober before returning at night. He suc- 
ceeded so well in this, that an idea occurred 
to him in regard to the future. In that wine- 
glass given to him by a neighbor, had dis- 
solved all his good resolutions, and he made 
up his mind hereafter to cheat Aunt Sabby, 
by stealing out for frequent scholarly walks. 
He need not, as formerly, go at it madly and 
drink to excess. He would be moderate in 
quantity ; but have a drink often — stay out 
until he was master of himself and then re- 
turn. Otherwise Aunt Sabby became his 
master, and shut him up in the house. Now, 
Aunt Sabby was not easily imposed upon ; 
nevertheless her dignified husband carried 
out his plan for about ten days. They were 


366 


The Queer Home in 


miserable days after all. He was holding the 
reins over a fiery steed just ready to break 
into the wildest run. It was far harder to drink 
a little and be satisfied, than to drink none. 
Then, again, while he was exercising a certain 
amount of strong self-control, he despised 
himself as he had not formerly, when wholly 
carried off his feet. Indeed, he more than 
once meditated plunging once and forever 
into an abyss of drunkenness — without hope 
or effort for reform in all time. What kept 
him back? — what sometimes made him put 
away the one glass beyond his limit ? Could 
it have been some earnest prayer of that 
faithful wife? Who knows ? “More things 
are wrought by prayer than this world 
knows.” 

For some time, he entirely escaped suspi- 
cion ; but after a while, Aunt Sabby began to 
wonder why a long article, that he was writ- 
ing on a certain subject, did not lengthen by 
more than one or two paragraphs a day ; 


Rugby Court. 


3^7 


why he complained so much of headache, 
and took so many long walks for air, and why 
he avoided the family meetings, and neglected 
Felix more than formerly. She divined the 
truth at last. One lovely June morning, Un- 
cle Jason arose resolved for that day to re- 
main at home and feel himself a man. He 
sat over his study table writing busily, until 
the forenoon was half gone, then the old rest- 
lessness returned in full force. He walked 
the room and fought it, read a half hour and 
tried to forget it ; but all in vain. He sprang 
up, and snatching his hat, escaped from the 
house by a side door and was soon out in the 
street — but not before one person had seen 
him. Marjory, sitting in the garden-arbor, 
had caught sight of her father, and it occur- 
red to her dainty ladyship, that she too would 
go for a walk. She seldom ventured alone 
into the streets, for fear of fast-driven horses, 
whose coming she could not hear. 

Jason was beyond the Court a good way, 


3 68 


The Queer Home in 


intent only on his peculiar errand, when he 
was startled by a hand thrust softly into his 
own. He was almost as pleasantly surprised 
as annoyed, when his glance fell on the slen- 
der maiden at his side. She still wore the 
same kind of a snow-white sun-bonnet as 
when a child; and her rare, oval face, and 
great dark eyes, reminded him nowadays of 
a certain pictured Sancta Maria. To-day, 
the quaint resemblance was heightened by a 
tall stalk of pure white lilies she had borne 
from the garden. Since Marjory had been 
able to walk alone, she had one fixed habit: 
She never went outside of her own gate in 
summer without flowers, which she never 
failed to bestow on the first person whom she 
thought would like them. She searched the 
faces of old and young, rich and poor, and if 
she saw there any kind of beauty-hunger, she 
dropped her gift into their empty hands. To- 
day she kept her own small right hand but 
one moment in Jason’s; then she drew it 


Rugby Court. 369 

away, and off her finger-tips waved the grace- 
ful syllables of that silent speech of hers. 
Every person who passed the tall, grave man 
and the lovely girl, followed them with inter- 
ested eyes ; but no one save her father knew 
what she was saying. She was brimming over 
with joy at the beauty of the June day. She 
wanted him to see the lace-like white clouds 
on the intense blue over their heads — to no- 
tice the varied green of the three different 
kinds of trees along the way. Her sense of 
sight in the perception of hues and lights had 
developed most artistically, and one saw much 
who walked with her. Jason, who had not 
come out for any such purpose as this, of 
studying the loveliness of nature, felt a sort 
of discomfort, half comic, half remorseful. 
There, a little farther down this street, was 
the aristocratic “ Retreat/’ where he had in- 
tended to call ; but now, he knew no more 
what to do than if a calm and holy angel 
had dropped down out of the clouds and at- 
24 


370 The Queer Home in 

tached itself to him. He was ashamed of 
himself— impelled to go home, and yet so 
restless and unsatisfied, that he knew if he 
went home, he should only come out again 
upon this same errand. He resolved to take 
Marjory to a picture gallery, and let her stay 
there until he came again for her. 

While this was going on in the man’s mind, 
the young girl was tripping along with her 
lilies, the light breeze playing with the hair 
on her broad forehead, and she, every now 
and then, telling him her thoughts. When 
he was laying his picture-gallery plan, he had 
ceased to look at her, so to recall his atten- 
tion she tapped him lightly on the cheek with 
her flowers and spelled out: “I have yester- 
day learned a poem, my father. I like it. 
This walk to-day makes me think of it.” 

“ What was it, Margie ? ” 

She stopped to give better play to her 
hand, and it was to him as if she were de- 
livering a message : 


Rugby Court . 371 

“ I say to thee, do thou repeat 
To the first man thou mayest meet 
In lane, highway, or open street — 

That he, and we, and all men move 
Under a canopy of love. 

As broad as the blue sky above : 

That weary deserts we may tread, 

Through dark ways underground be led ; 

Yet if we will One Guide obey 
The dreariest path, the darkest way 
Shall issue out in heavenly day.” 


A tremor of awe fell upon the man, as if 
one of God’s messengers really spoke. It 
was the same old echo of his wife’s entreat- 
ies, of Felix’s testimony; but now, here at 
the very door of temptation stood the child, 
with her lily stalk, as powerful as one with a 
flaming sword. He looked down into her 
sweet face with such an unutterable longing 
and tenderness, that her eyes filled with tears, 
she did not know why. He took her hand 
and turned, and went another way home. 
But, alas ! That day later, and on the day 
following, he drank more than ever before. 


XIX. 


“Grief may be joy misunderstood.” — M rs. Browning. 

Maurice came. As Lizette was one day 
reading in the piazza, he walked quietly up 
behind her and uttered an Indian phrase, 
learned from an old squaw and often used by 
him as a salutation. She knew it well, and 
cried out, “ Maurice ! ” in joyful welcome, as 
she raised her eyes to the tall form bending 
over her. Before she led him within Aunt 
Sabby’s hospitable doors, she let him take 
the seat by her side, while each talked as 
only friends long separated can. She did 
not know that as they talked he was study- 
ing her face and every motion, precisely as 
was she watching his ; but so it was, and 
each was pleased by the scrutiny. 

“ I can not tell you how glad I am to see 
you, Maurice,” Lizette repeated, with her 

( 372 '» 


373 


Rugby Court . 

deep blue eyes full of content. “ It is just 
like home— in a way I have not known since 
I saw the pine trees and the river. Oh, I 
have missed the water so ! Is the St. Law- 
rence there yet ? ” she asked, laughing, only 
to keep back the quick, foolish tears. 

It was not needful that Maurice should gaze 
so very intently into those same blue eyes, 
while he told her about Canadian friends and 
affairs ; yet so it pleased him to do most per- 
sistingly. The two might have talked on for 
hours, had not Billy in time carried to his 
mother the intelligence that Lizette was “ out 
on the piazza flirting with a handsome book 
agent, who was tall as a lightning-rod, and 
looked as if he did not mean to go before 
dark.” 

“Lizette flirting! I presume it is some 
bore she can’t get rid of,” and with benevo- 
lent designs for her deliverance, Aunt Sabby 
appeared on the stage of action. 

A half hour later, Maurice felt as if he had 


374 Zlfo Queer Home in 

known Lizette’s friends as long as she had ; 
for they made him speedily at ease, by giving 
him just the right amount of attention, and of 
judicious letting alone. Harry was not at 
home for a day or two ; and Maurice had 
Lizette entirely to himself. That which was 
the result of this intercourse might as well be 
plainly set forth first as last. Maurice might 
not have known, when he wrote to Lizette, 
just why, or how much, he wished to see her ; 
perhaps he fancied a visit would be, for the 
time at least, all-sufficient ; if so, he found af- 
ter a few days in Rugby Court that thoughts 
hitherto half undefined, were taking sharp 
outlines and vivid colors. 

It took the two friends a good while to 
“ talk up,” as Aunt Sabby called the rehearsal 
to each of the other’s past. They spent the 
day-time in sunny nooks of the garden, or 
quiet walks about the old town ; and were so 
all-absorbed in comparing present facts and 
reviving old memories that, by Lizette at 


375 


Rugby Court 

least, the future was ignored. At the end of 
several days, she fell back a little more into 
the family ranks. Harry came home for a 
visit, and Maurice opened his eyes to the fact 
that there was a busy world about him, and 
people in it; that Lizette belonged to them 
as much— more than she did to him. “ This 
must not be ! She ought to be all mine,” 
was the secret, but intense protest which, all 
at once, his whole soul put up. She was fast 
becoming, in truth had become, the one wom- 
an in all the world to him : most precious, 
desirable beyond comparison. He not only 
knew that he could love Lizette passionately, 
unreservedly, but it seemed to him he had 
always loved her. In the past, he had tried 
to sweep every human affection out of his in- 
nermost heart, and bar the entrance thereto ; 
but just outside had awaited this displaced 
one, growing stronger and more beautiful ; until 
now, unrestrained, it entered and took posses- 
sion : a Peri, who brought Paradise with it. 


376 


The Queer Home in 


His intended visit of a few days was protract- 
ed; while he formed the intention of making 
to Lizette a full disclosure of his feelings to- 
ward her ; but a great shyness came upon 
him with the acknowledgment of his love. 
He knew so little of society, of arts and ad- 
dress. Books, nature, and his own soul-life 
had taught him earnestness, but not self-con- 
fidence ; now Lizette began to be glorified in 
his eyes. A chance touch of her hand, a 
sympathetic glance (and she gave him many), 
the sound of her approaching footstep thrilled 
through him as such trifles have thrilled lovers 
time out of mind. “ Lizette ! Lizette ! ” was 
the beginning and the end, and the whole 
subject-matter of our whilom anchorite’s rev- 
eries. His future going and doings, all that 
he would become or achieve, was commingled 
in thought with blue eyes, black hair, and red 
lips. Never, as a Catholic, had any saint been 
to him what the pretty Canadian girl had be- 
come. While she would not have been one 


Rugby Court. 


377 


whit too good for him, could he have got her 
for his wife, he thought himself made of far 
baser clay than was she. In short, Maurice 
loved her ; and if we were to fill chapters with 
the analysis of his emotions, it would all 
amount to this one statement. The evening 
Harry arrived, Maurice saw nothing that could 
give him the least reason to suspect the real 
state of affairs. He saw in him only Liz- 
ette’s cousin, at least by adoption, a boyish, 
merry fellow, whose chit-chat and free and 
jovial manners banished all constraint. Har- 
ry, on his part, w T as glad Lizette could “get 
on with him, for he was too awfully high- 
toned for this nineteenth century.” He de- 
tained her in the hall a little later, and whis- 
pered : “ I wish he would wear a robe ! With 
that face he would make a picture of himself. 
It is the most spiritual, and yet intellectual 
phiz, I ever encountered.” 

“ But he isn’t a priest,” said Lizette, mov- 
ing toward the parlor door, against Harry’s 
detention. 


378 


The Queer Home in 


“The deuce he isn’t! Well, he ought to 
be — I have no doubt he will be.” 

That same evening, Lotte thought to make 
Lizette another visit. She was ignorant of 
the coming either of Maurice or of Harry, and 
she was anxious to get out from under a pe- 
culiar new dreariness that had hung over her 
for a few days. She started just after sunset, 
when a filmy golden veil seemed left behind 
over the tender green foliage of the elm trees. 
The evening was so beautiful, that when she 
reached the Court, she entered the garden 
first to see the spring flowers in their fresh- 
ness. She found Felix there, and stopped 
for a friendly word or two with him. They 
stood near enough to the parlor windows to 
hear the voices within ; and soon Lotte asked: 
“ Do I hear some strange gentleman ? ” 
“Yes; Mr. D’Hullin, from Canada!” 

“ Indeed ! Then will I not go in. I wish 
not to see strangers ; and do I not also hear 
Harry?” 


37 9 


Rugby Court. 

“ Yes ; he came home again to-night.” 

“ I shall stay here with you a short time, 
and after it return.” 

She meant to talk to the old man, but she 
forgot him, and stood twirling a bunch of blue 
periwinkle, lost in her own thoughts. 

“You are pale, Miss Lotte, and look tired,” 
said Felix; “had you not better go in and 
rest ? ” 

“ Thanks ; I think no ! How big is this 
America ! ” she suddenly exclaimed. “ Some- 
times I feel that I have lost myself quite, and 
I grow homesick then. I weep to go back 
to the home and my grandmother, where was 
all so calm, and I am just a child — no more. 
Here I will get old and sorrowful, perhaps. 
Is it not true ? ” 

She sighed drearily, as if old age and care 
were really upon her; while to Felix, the 
golden-haired creature looked like the very 
spirit of the spring sunset. 

“ Age will come to you very slowly, my 


380 


The Qtieer Home in 


child — and sorrow may not find you; yet, if 
it seeks you, I suppose you can not run away 
from it. Do people never know it in Ger- 
many ? ” 

“ I suppose,” and she picked her peri- 
winkles to pieces. 

At that moment, Harry’s voice was heard 
in the door, and she dropped the flowers and 
sped away, leaving Felix bewildered and 
alone. 

It was the day but one after Harry’s ar- 
rival, and Lizette and Maurice found them- 
selves in the old-fashioned, pleasant parlor. 
None of the many boys, whom Maurice se- 
cretly considered nuisances, were curled up in 
chairs or sprawling around on sofas. Lizette 
was training an ivy in the bay-window and 
listening to Maurice. She had been talking 
with him of Father D’Hullin, and he had told 
her of his brother’s magnanimity, and of his un- 
diminished affection for him, under all kinds of 
annoyances growing out of Maurice’s change 


Rugby Court . 


381 

of plans. No really serious results had fol- 
lowed Maurice’s defection from the priest- 
hood. He had been fearless in confessing 1 
the truth, but not foolish in courting persecu- 
tion. He had left his brother’s roof, in order 
not to bring reproach upon him, and he was 
supporting himself by teaching in Montreal. 
From this, the conversation took a purely 
personal turn, and Maurice, told her of his 
reasonable expectation that a professorship 
in a Protestant College might eventually be- 
come his ; for to such an occupation he felt 
himself peculiarly adapted. He did not tell 
her a few other plans he had for “ getting on 
in the world,” because Maurice was one who 
rarely said, “ I shall build,” but waited until 
he could say, “ I have built ; ” then if he failed, 
no one could call him a boaster. 

“What opportunities you see in life, Mau- 
rice ! You arouse me to a kind of enthusiasm 
I have not felt before ; but I shall lose it all 
when you go away. With me here, every 


382 


The Queer Home in 


day is like every other day. All work is 
alike, and — oh, dear! One gets wofully 
tired sometimes of contentment ! ” 

The color flushed quickly into Maurice’s 
pale face. “ What a contradictory avowal ! 
Do you mean — ” 

“ I mean,” began Lizette, in the impetuous 
way she sometimes broke into other people’s 
sentences, in total defiance of etiquette — 
“ That is, I suppose I am a simpleton ; but — 
Well, have you never longed for a high wind 
on a sleepy summer day, or to shriek out in 
church, or to break up any peaceable, proper 
order of things ? ” 

What there was in Lizette’s desire to shriek 
out in church, that could have brought Mau- 
rice’s confession upon her, will ever be unex- 
plained ; but a second after he held her hands 
shut fast in his, his face bent over hers en- 
raptured, and the fountains of a great passion 
were broken up. Was this Maurice ? Was 
she Lizette ? The whirlwind had indeed 


Rugby Court . 


383 


come into the “ sleepy summer day.” Sur- 
prise held her speechless, as over and over 
Maurice told her of his love, of all that which 
he would be to her — do for her — how they 
would work and grow tQgether ; his enthu- 
siasm should be hers as well, while he would 
give to her his life, every emotion of his soul 
that was not due to Heaven. 

At last she stammered: “ Oh, let me — oh, 
forgive me ! I did not think—” 

“ Well, now, here you are after all ! I just 
sent Harry careering over to the Library to 
visit with yon. I told him you had not been 
there before, and I knew Mr. D’Hullin would 
want to see it, because it is our biggest lion. 
Oh, do look at that cobweb, Lizette, over that 
curtain. Isn’t that a disgrace to our house- 
keeping? I will just prepare to spoil that 
spider’s fun ! ” 

Aunt Sab, without a glance at the discom- 
fited couple by the ivy vine, seized a long- 
handled peacock’s feather duster, and charged 


384 The Queer Home in 

on her exalted foe. Lizette hid her face in 
the shadow, and Maurice stared a gold-fish 
out of countenance — or would have done so, 
had the thing been possible. Aunt Sabby 
whisked away right and left, puffing and 
panting and never stopping her chatter. 

“ I think I must lay this to your charge, 
Lizette ; for the parlors are less my care than 
yours, lately. You see, Mr; D’Hullin, I am 
slipping my mantle off onto her, as fast as I 
can. It is preparatory to abdicating some 
day entirely in her favor. I want to seem to 
lay my honors down — not have them plucked 
away. I suppose the second mistress here — ” 

Slam! went the duster- -this time quite 
demolishing the web ; yet Aunt Sabby went 
right on with another work of destruction, 
warring this time not upon spiders or with 
any intent to harm. 

“ I suppose she has told you that we are 
to have her for our very own by right. Harry 
and she will have this homestead for their 


Rugby Court . 


385 


final portion, of course ; but they will marry 
whenever they choose. There ! every vestige 
of that is gone ! Did you say you had seen 
the Library, Mr. D’Hullin?” 

“Yes, I have — no,” answered Maurice, 
with the voice of one afar off. 

When Lizette looked up again, the color had 
gone from his face, and an ashen hue settled 
around his lips. Aunt Sabby had begun upon 
some other topic; but Tom burst in with' the 
announcement that tea was ready, and Harry 
appeared hot, tired, but good-natured, even 
while he declared himself the victim of a 
scheme to see him as little as possible. The 
rest of the day was as a dream to Lizette ; 
she did not hear the chat and gossip of the 
family. She realized, in the evening, that 
Maurice was telling them that he must go on 
the morrow ; she knew they were all protest- 
ing against the departure with kindly hospi- 
tality, but it seemed like something from 
which she was very soon to awake, and to find 

25 


3 86 


The Queer Home in 


then everything as usual — all this as before, 
to be indeed the “ sleepy summer day.” 
Once she felt, rather than saw, that Maurice 
averted his head when Harry drew her one 
side, to whisper in her ear a jest that she 
received most stupidly. That night, hours 
after Marjory had been fast asleep, Lizette sat 
like a statue in the shadows — motionless, un- 
less a long sob shook her from head to foot. 

The next day Maurice bade them all good- 
bye, with heartiest thanks for their kind en- 
tertainment. He held Lizette’s hand long 
enough to draw her just over the threshold, 
and gave her a look that might have stamped 
her image on his memory forever ; then he 
said: “Try to forget it as I must. God 

bless you ! ” and was gone. 

“ He is a fine chap,” Harry was saying 
within — “ slow, may be, but tremendously 
sure. Now, Fred, be reasonable and tell me 
what you mean by saying I don’t look well 
in a swallow-tail ? It is the only proper thing 


3^7 


Rugby Court . 

for dress. Where is Lizette ? Why didn’t 
she come back in here ? I haven’t seen any- 
thing of her since this Canadian came to 
town.” 


XX. 


“ Between the yes and no of a woman, I would not under- 
take to thrust the point of a pin.” — D on Quixote. 

Aunt Sabby had a quilting one stormy 
Monday in winter. All the neighbors in the 
Court were washing ; but Aunt Sab chose to 
quilt if it was Monday. Fred put up her 
frames ; Dick chalked off the pattern, and 
Tom began as fine a “ herring-bone ” as any 
feminine body could have made. The bed- 
quilt was one that the boys had pieced a long 
time before, for the Home Missions ; and 
Aunt Sabby determined that they should fin- 
ish it according to order and their first plan. 

“ You were not ashamed to begin it, and 
you were sorry for the missionaries' families ; 
now the western climate is just as cold as it 
ever was, and you are not going to get too 
big to be charitable, I hope. So there ! 4 En- 

( 388 ) 


Rugby Court. 


38 9 


gland expects every man to do his duty.’ I 
represent England, and I intend to carry out 
my expectations.” 

This was Aunt Sabby’s address, when she 
brought forth the gay counterpane, and it 
had due effect. A few hours later, the quilt 
was half done — well done, too, if the boys 
did fling beeswax balls, and chalk their noses, 
and shout loud enough to have taken off any 
other roof in Rugby Court. Indeed, the 
neighbors had their own opinion in regard to 
the cause of the crookedness that had to be 
repaired in this one. In the afternoon the 
helpful masculine element was allowed a re- 
cess, while Lizette, Aunt Sabby, and Mar- 
jory took their turn. Margie proved an ex- 
cellent worker ; Aunt Sab talked against time, 
and Felix brought a willow-basket he was 
weaving, and sat humming by the fireplace. 
Everything within was bright and cosy, but 
without, the wind and snow filled air and 
earth with conflict. Suddenly Aunt Sabby 


390 


The Queer Home in 


exclaimed : “ Lizette, what ails you ? I want 
you to stop sewing ; your head aches, I know 
it does ! I shall have the doctor come and 
see you. I am afraid you are going into a 
decline. When the warm spring weather 
comes, you will run down fast.” 

Lizette, who did not look well, said that she 
was not ill in the least ; but finally, as if to end 
the conversation, she yielded ; laid aside her 
needle, and went away to rest. Aunt Sab, 
watching her spiritless movements, sighed as 
she closed the door behind her, and said to 
Felix: “It seems to me that Lizette has 
some trouble on her mind. I wish she would 
tell it to me, for it is wearing on her day after 
day. Sometimes I imagine that she thinks 
Harry is not steady, or something of that 
kind. I know he is,” and all her trustful 
mother-love shone in her eyes. “ I try,” she 
went on, “ to make Lizette see what firm faith 
I have in Harry, and how much I hope from 
his future ; yet, all this only seems to make 


39 1 


Rugby Court . 

her more melancholy than before. She talks 
to you very freely sometimes, Felix; can’t 
you find out her trouble, and give me some 
hint of it ? I mean it all for her happiness ; 
although she does make Harry feel perplexed 
and a little uncomfortable. He has not been 
home now in several weeks ; for I quietly 
made up my mind he was disappointed in his 
last visit. Lizette did not once cross him, or 
even contradict, as she used to. She express- 
ed herself suited with whatever he did ; but 
all the time nothing made her enthusiastic or 
really happy.” 

“ She has not talked much with me, for a 
long time,” said Felix, cautiously; “but I 
have thought — you know I have so much 
time, I think of all sorts of things — I — I — 
may be it is not the right idea at all,” and 
Felix glanced at Marjory, as if half afraid she 
would read the words on his lips. 

“ Well, now, do tell me ! What have you 
thought ? As likely as not, you have hit the 
truth.” 


39 2 


The Queer Home in 


Marjory was all-absorbed in the “ herring- 
bone ” on a square of pink calico before her, so 
Felix began, stammering and blushing, as • 
one who meddles with something of a deli- 
cate nature: “Has she ever — well, has she 
been so young like, and full of fun since — for 
a year — well, since that young priest was 
here ? ” 

“ He was not a priest/’ said Aunt Sabby, 
slowly, as if discoursing with herself. 

“ Yes — I know he had given that up ; and 
at the time I — now, I never expected to speak 
of this — you know old folks are like children ; 
they often see things that people who have 
business to attend to don’t ; so, then, I saw 
by plenty of little things that that young man 
came after Lizette. He loved her as very 
few people love other people. I think she 
found it out, and grieves over it yet.” 

“ Oh, dear me ; what a muddle ! Why 
must so much true love get wasted in this 
world, when plenty of folks would be happy 


Rugby Court . 


393 


for having it, and can’t. Why, it is like see- 
ing pure, sweet water poured on the ground 
in the sight of thirsty folks, and the same way 
with provisions. Our dogs and cats eat 
enough to make little starving children fat 
and jolly. They aint here to get it, and the 
beasts are ; so humanity suffers. Poor young 
man ! What a weary world to such ! I do 
remember, the day he went away, thinking 
what unutterably sad eyes he had — looked as 
if never all his life long, had he ever had the 
thing he most wanted, and didn’t believe he 
ever should have. Lawful sakes ! It makes 
me cold all over — up there in Canada, too ! 
But why, pray tell me, should Lizette keep 
getting sorrier and sorrier for him ? ” 

This was a question upon which P'elix had 
his own well-digested ideas, but he was not 
inclined to answer in full. He knew Aunt 
Sabby could be left to follow out a clew once 
furnished her, and he was wise enough to 
save her maternal pride. She sewed and 


394 


The Queer Home in 


sewed for a long time in silence, while her face 
seemed to grow longer and sadder. 

Lizette, going out of this room, hastened 
to her own, where she paced drearily back 
and forth in fruitless, wearing thought. She 
watched the snow drifting against the win- 
dow-pane, listened to the boys’ distant laugh- 
ter, and wished most heartily that this last 
year might be dropped out of her life. In it 
she had learned to suffer, but had not learned 
to be strong. She had not known that be- 
fore one thinks to sacrifice happiness to fan- 
cied duty, one must see if duty itself does not 
forbid such a sacrifice. 

That evening Lizette found herself alone 
with her future mother-in-law ; not a boy lin- 
gered in the dining-room, which was some- 
thing unusual. Aunt Sabby had drawn her 
chair near the fire, and sufficiently close to 
Lizette to watch every light or shade on her 
face. She sewed quietly for a while, and then 
suddenly put down her patched jacket, and 


Rugby Court . 395 

calmly exclaimed : “ I wish you would tell me 
all about Maurice D’Hullin ! ” 

Lizette started — colored rose-red. 

“ I was really very much interested in him ; 
but I don’t think I ever understood exactly 
why he left off his studies in college, or what 
his plans were anyway.” 

Lizette ought to have found the narration 
of simple facts an easy enough matter ; but 
she gave a most dry and disconnected state- 
ment of Maurice’s affairs and intentions for 
the future. 

Aunt Sabby listened with the greatest calm- 
ness ; only occasionally putting some simple 
question, and finally changed the conversa- 
tion from one topic to another, until she had 
artfully introduced the relations existant be- 
tween Lizette and Harry. Lizette was even 
more non-committal on this subject than upon 
the other ; so that, at last, in sheer despair, 
Aunt Sabby said : “ Sometimes I have asked 
myself if you and Harry had not lived here 


396 


The Queer Home in 


together, learning and experiencing the same 
things, until you are a little too much like 
brother and sister to marry one another ! ” 

“ Oh, Aunt Sabby ! If he would only have 
believed it ! ” exclaimed Lizette, her face light- 
ing up with positive delight ; then instantly 
conscious, by Aunt Sabby’s expression, that 
she had betrayed herself, she burst into 
tears. 

“ There — there, child ! Don’t you feel one 
bit bad ! I know now just what the matter is ; 
my big boy has been teasing your life out of 
you ; but it shall not go on any longer. I am 
sorry for him, but the world has always gone 
smoothly with him, and perhaps he needed a 
trouble. Poor fellow ; he is a little conceited, 
and may be a trifle selfish — though I don’t 
see much of it. God knows how I love my 
children, and I suffer when they suffer ; yet, 

I know they have got to feel affliction if they 
live on earth. When they were little, and 
used to tumble down off high places (as they 


Rugby Court 


397 


were forever doing), I never told them they 
were too good to have bumps and bruises, 
only that just such things would make them 
stronger. Now, Lizette, as to this particular 
thing — you need not have any more head- 
aches or heart- aches ; you will always be a 
daughter to me, and I would rather you had 
given me or him any amount of pain first than 
to have married him without sufficient love 
for him to make you happy. There, now ; 
go to bed ! ” 

Lizette threw her arms around Aunt Sabby 
and hugged her, as if she had been Mar- 
jory's age. 

“ Don't you worry any more,” said the 
good woman, settling her cap after the em- 
brace ; “ I’ll manage Harry.” 

Nevertheless, this was a grievous disap- 
pointment to Harry's mother. She had 
month after month built up hopes and plans 
around this marriage, and now while she 
could plainly see Lizette did not desire it, 


398 The Queer Home in 

yet in her secret soul she wondered at the 
girl’s lack of taste. 

“ But, dearie me ! Forced things never 
flourish ; don’t I remember my white hyacinth 
bulb, that I was bound to have blossom so 
early, one spring ? I took my own way with 
it, and really it made a very fine show until 
somebody discovered that the part above 
ground was all there was to it — so, of course, 
in a little while it went to nothing. I got 
enough that time of forcing greer\ things,” 
and unconscious as ever of her innocent 
humor, Aunt Sabby felt weighed down with 
a melancholy sense of duty undertaken ; for 
any one who attempts the “ management ” of 
a romantic, self-satisfied young gentleman in 
love, undertakes a work which the Saints 
ought to consider one of supererogation. 

Into Aunt Sabby’s meditation broke the 
voice of Dick roaring lustily : 

“ I saw the curl of his waving lash, 

And the glance of his knowing eye ; 

And I knew that he thought he was cutting a dash — ” 


Rugby Court . 399 

“ Oh, don’t, Richard, craze me with your 
racket ! ” 

“ Precious little mother, can’t you let me 
warble a few wild notes in peace ? What ails 
you, anyway ? What makes you melan- 
choly ? Were the family stocking holes big- 
ger than usual ? Was the pancake batter 
sour ? ” 

“ I am thinking about the future of my 
boys ! ” 

“ Well, I wouldn’t if it made me sick.” 

“What if you all disgrace me? There 
was Mrs. Adams’ Bill — he went and married 
a miserable actress.” 

“ Oh, I am so sorry-^for the actress.” 

“ Well, so am I. I had not thought of that ; 
Bill was a scamp.” 

“ And your boys are not ; and none of them 
have married actresses ; so that is not on 
your mind.” 

“ No ; but seriously, Richard, you don’t 
know a mother’s anxieties.” 


400 


The Queer Home in 


“True. I have never been one — that is, 
an anxiety, perhaps ; but not a mother.” 

“ If you had,” plaintively continued Aunt 
Sabby, who never half saw the absurdjty of 
Dick’s grave remarks, “you would realize 
how, sometimes, when I think of what lies 
before my children, I almost wish they had 
not come into the world.” 

Richard walked solemnly over to the china 
closet, and returned with the carving-knife ; 
he knelt before Aunt Sabby, with his vest 
thrown open, and offered her the weapon, 
pointing at his vitals. She cuffed his red 
head, half amused, half vexed that she should 
have expected sympathy or understanding 
from saucy Dick. She was surprised, when 
he sprang up and caught her comely old face 
between his rough palms, giving her a sound- 
ing kiss, and saying: “Don’t fret over us, 
mother ! I guess we will turn out middling 
fair, with a few squalls. Anyway, there 
never was a crew of boys that had a gayer 


401 


Rugby Court . 

blessing of a parent than Mrs. Sabby is. You 
teach us everything good. You love us, and 
you make our home the happiest one in the 
town limits.” 


Aunt Sabby had brought nine children, 
through all kinds of infantile diseases, and she 
supposed that she had patience ; nevertheless, 
the mental exercises and the bodily manifes- 
tation of her eldest born, drove ’her as near 
to what novelists call the verge of distraction, 
as she could be driven. He sulked, he affect- 
ed sarcasm, sardonic smiles, and all the simu- 
lars, “ Ss.” He darkly hinted of terrible 
wickedness, of which he felt himself capable, 
under a certain pressure of despondency. 
He went about persistently in his old clothes, 
which was as touching a thing as he could 
have done, and which made his mother weep 
when she found out what he was doing. But 
after a while, our young friend seemed to 

digest the “venom” of his “spleen.” His 
2 6 


402 The Queer Home in Rugby Court. 

boyish shout rang through the house once 
more, and when the earth again renewed 
her beauty and came forth radiant, Harry’s 
brothers were no longer deprived of his cast- 
off neckties and discarded hats, for again he 
reveled in new ones. He was an unconscious 
witness to a certain truth in Arthur Helps’ 
maxim, that “ Vanity is the thing that keeps 
most men’s tempers tolerably sweet.” With 
Lizette, Aunt Sabby had a more lasting 
source of trouble. She was neither desperate 
nor sentimental ; but all the color seemed to 
have gone out of her life. She dealt in nega- 
tions until Aunt Sab declared she wished 
something would ail her rather than that 
vexatious “ nothing.” She slipped farther and 
farther away from the joyous life of the house- 
hold ; finding herself most in sympathy with 
the old man and the dumb child -those lives 
that had seemed to her once so monotonous. 
She was gentle, helpful, and affectionate ; but 
life meant duty to her, and Duty wore a cold 
and hopeless face. 


XXI. 


“ Give to the winds thy fears ! 

Hope and be undismayed ! 

God hears thy sighs and counts thy tears, 

God shall lift up thy head.” 

— Paul Gerhardt. 

It was a wild, dark night in February. 
The rain had poured out of the leaden sky 
every hour since the morning previous. At 
intervals the wind beat the leafless tree- 
branches against the stout old house, and 
moaned and wailed about the chambers of 
the youthful sleepers within. From one win- 
dow streamed out a broad tract of light, and 
in the room from whence it issued, were two 
persons interested in something beside the 
storm. It was after midnight, but Mr. Ber- 
nard had not been in bed. He sat by the 
study table, his face hidden in his hands, and 
his head turned as if to shut out the v'oice of 

(403) 


404 


The Queer Home in 


one who might be speaking. Aunt Sabby, 
if she had been talking, had ceased ; she 
stood with her hands folded hopelessly, and 
a weary look upon her face. The poor wom- 
an was thoroughly tired and discouraged. 
Her faith in Jason’s power to resist tempta- 
tion was all gone — there had never been much 
of it to go ; but something far more precious 
was slowly dying out of her : her faith that 
God cared for her— -that it mattered much to 
Him that this sore trial was eating out her 
peace and happiness — her faith, that although 
He waited long, He would at length remem- 
ber mercy. She thought of the days and 
hours she had spent in prayer for her hus- 
band’s deliverance — she had literally prayed 
without ceasing ; about her work, amid the 
busy child-life, reading, walking, or sewing — 
had there not been forever going up one pa- 
tient entreaty? And with what result? “ He 
answered her not a word,” so to-night the 
language of her .heart was : “ I do well to 


Rugby Coitrt. 


405 


be weary.” Uncle Jason had been drinking 
more or less for weeks, and to-night he was 
determined to “have it out, if it killed” him ; 
but by every means in her power, she had 
prevented him from leaving the house. It 
was an immense advantage on Aunt Sabby’s 
side, seldom possessed by the wife of a drunk- 
ard, that her husband was never rough or 
violent. He might be wild to craziness, but 
he had never yet been brutal. He ran away 
when he could, but if she had locked him into 
the house, he never had forcibly taken a key 
from her. He begged, entreated, and com- 
manded her to give it up ; but in such a case, 
she absolutely refused to obey. Of course, 
in time, he could circumvent her, having only 
to wait until the children were around, and 
under shelter of their presence to escape. On 
this night she said, after a little while: “Ja- 
son, won’t you eat something and go to bed ? 
I believe if you would try it, you might sleep 
off some of your bad feelings.” 


40 6 The Queer Home in 

“ No, I will not,” he exclaimed, starting up 
out of his chair. “ I can not be balked so 
any longer. I shall go out and stay an hour, 
perhaps, then I will come home quietly.” 

“ No, you would not come back.” 

“ Let me go to perdition then ! ” 

“ Jason, don’t speak so loud! You will 
wake up Dick or Billy.” 

“ Well, then, Sabby,” he continued coax- 
ingly, “you go to bed and to sleep ; you are 
worn out. I only want a glass or two, and 
then I can be easy. I promise you, solemnly, 
I will come back. Come, go away now.” 

She shook her head in mute refusal. 

“Why not? ” he persisted crossly. 

“ Why not ! ” she cried, with considerable 
spirit for her. “ Do you ask me why not ? 
Well, for your sake, and for my sake, and for 
the sake of the children ! Have I not seen 
you ‘ have it out ’ too many times ? Think of 
the bodily suffering and the remorse you make 
for yourself! Do be a reasonable man. I 


Rugby Court. 


407 


can not save your false pride much longer ; 
the neighbors must, I am sure, suspect your 
intemperance. The children can not long be 
ignorant, if you go on as you have lately.” 

“ Don’t tell me all this ; I know it as well as 
you do.” 

“ Then be persuaded to avoid another great 
outbreak.” 

He walked the room moodily, up and.down, 
up and down ; until Aunt Sabby hoped he 
would get so tired, he would be glad to be 
quiet; but there was no pacifying the spirit that 
now ruled him, and cried : “ Give ! give ! ” 

He stopped at last, directly in front of her, 
saying, firmly : “ It is of no use. I will go 
out and drink until I am satisfied! ” 

“ No, Jason, you must not — don’t say so ! 
Drink a cup of hot, strong coffee ; I have 
some that is delicious waiting for you, and 
oysters cooked as you like them ; take some, 
and then if you can not go to bed, read or 
write. Think how much better you will feel 


408 The Queer Home in 

to-morrow ! How glad you will be that I hin- 
dered you.” 

CI You can not hinder me — I am going,” 
he answered, in the quick, sharp tone, so dif- 
ferent from his usual manner. He snatched 
his hat from the sofa,' and hastened to the 
door, but Aunt Sabby was there before him, 
and had it locked. He seized her arm tightly, 
and said, under his breath, but peremptorily, 
44 Give me that key ! ” 

14 Oh, no,” she entreated. 44 Don't go — just 
for me — for my sake, stay at home to-night ! 
Have I not always been a good wife ? If 
you care anything about me, give up going 
this once. Hear the rain and the wind— it is 
a fearful night ; I am sick and so weary ; but 
you know, if you go, I shall follow you ! You 
are kind when you are yourself — why are you 
so hard in times like this ? ” 

He did not listen, indeed scarcely heard 
at all. His hands trembled with eagerness, 
and his eyes were like an insane man’s. 


R ugby Court . 409 

a This moment — give me that key, or I will 
force it from you/' 

She recoiled in terror at the new harsh- 
ness, while he clutched her hands, as in a 
vise. It hurt her cruelly, but she let the 
sharp key cut into her fingers, while she beg- 
ged him, with tears and prayers, to give up 
his purpose. He swore at her ; and in one mo- 
ment of keenest agony, she felt that her hold 
on this man was all gone — that she could no 
longer appeal to any motive within him, strong 
enough to be to him a self-restraint. His 
love to her must go under, when this stronger 
passion rose up in him. This was to be 
henceforth his master, and he was to be hers. 
She groaned as in a death-struggle, and, 
faint with anguish, relaxed her hold on the 
key. In a second, it turned in the lock, and 
the door was open. She silenced her impulse 
to cry out, as like lightning came again the 
thought of the children. She only grasped 
out wildly, and struggled to hold him back. 


410 The Queer Home in 

With a yet wilder impulse, he tore himself 
free and pushed her rudely off. He knew she 
staggered and fell backward, but he fled, 
down the stairs, through the hall, and out 
like a whirlwind. 

In a room not far distant, Harry and Fred 
sprang up and listened. The wind raged 
around the house, slamming the loose blinds, 
beating the .trees against the porch, making 
noise enough to account for that which had 
awakened them. Satisfied that it had been 
the wind, they returned to their slumbers, and 
all was still again within — all save that tumult 
of grief, and doubt, and fear tearing at the heart 
of the woman — their mother — who lay where 
she had fallen, with the blood oozing from a 
cut on her head. Why could she not die 
then and there ? If she could do nothing to 
hold back this man from destruction — if for 
years, her cry had gone up into the ears of a 
God who was still deaf unto it — why cry any 
longer ? Poor Aunt Sabby ! Was it any 


Rugby Court . 41 1 

wonder that she was utterly desolate ? Yet, 
“ like as a father pitieth his children,” so our 
Lord pitieth these souls that “ entreat and 
implore — these 

“ Hearts that are broken with losses. 

And weary with dragging the crosses 
Too heavy for mortals to bear.” 

She could not pray, as she lay there in this 
hour of her extremity ; but none the less 
“ He had compassion upon her.” He knew 
she could not believe, for one dark moment ; 
yet throughout a long past she had staid her 
soul upon Him, and waited patiently for Him. 
The cross had been heavy, but the bearer 
of it had grown lovelier in spirit the lower she 
bowed under it. Now, its weight well-nigh 
crushed her. What then? To a child of 
the light no story-teller need give an answer ; 
has it not been written : “ The Eternal God 
is thy refuge, and underneath thee are His 
everlasting arms?” “The Lord is a stronghold 
in the day of trouble, and He knoweth them 


412 The Queer Home in 

that are His.” After a time she lifted herself 
up, but without a thought now of going after 
her husband. She could not have followed 
him, for her knees trembled under her; and 
the wound on her forehead, though only a 
slight one, sickened her with a deathly faint- 
ness. But had it been feasible, she would 
not have gone ; she gave him up. And now, 
what of the man ? He rushed out, and on to- 
ward the one place where he could get what 
he wanted at that hour of the night. It was 
not near the Court ; and, after running a block 
or two, with the fierce wind and hail beating 
against his face, he slackened his pace, and, 
wrought up as he was, he could not quite shut 
out all thought of what he had done, and was 
about to do. At the end of another two 
blocks, resistance to the fury of the storm 
had taken away much of his physical excite- 
ment, and when he turned into the street 
where Marjory had met him, that fair June 
day, he was calm enough to remember her ; 


Rugby Court. 


413 


then his long-suffering wife — her question, 
“ Have I not been a good wife to you?” — his 
home — the children; last of all, himself — his 
real self. There was in this man the instincts 
of a true gentleman — the refinement of one 
who loves, in the abstract, beauty and truth ; 
deeper than this was his domestic affection, 
and opposed to all — this horrible, maddening 
passion for drink. Just there and then in 
that midnight tempest these two elements 
rose up and clinched in combat. Everything 
good and holy allied itself on the one side, 
and every impulse that makes temptation 
tempting on the other. There had never be- 
fore been in his soul-life such a point at issue ; 
and there suddenly came to him a knowledge 
that this conflict was not like others — that it 
must be once for all ; that such a man as he 
could never have repeated in him this spirit- 
ual experience. The hour had come when 
he must decide whether his soul should be 
redeemed from the Devil, or the Devil come 


414 The Queer Home in 

into his possessions. The man’s footsteps 
lagged, until involuntarily he stood still, and 
the fate of a life trembled in the balarfce. 
The streets were empty — no light was in the 
houses. Was there no eye to pity and no 
arm to save ? The night watchman heard 
far down the way a cry — faint to him, be- 
cause of the storm ; but it was aloud — loudly 
that Jason Bernard called out : “ Lord God, 
deliver me ! now and forever ! ” 

“ Then all through the mountain thunder-riven, 

And up from the rocky steep 
There rose a cry to the gates of heaven, 

4 Rejoice, I have found my sheep ! * 

And the angels echoed around the throne, 

‘ Rejoice ! for the Lord brings back His own ! * ” 

It was just sunrise on the wintry morning, 
when Aunt Sabby came back to conscious- 
ness, after the deep sleep of exhaustion into 
which she had fallen on the sofa. That which 
recalled her fronl forgetfulness of the past 
night was, as she supposed; a kiss from some 
of the mischievous children. She pushed 


4i5 


Rugby Court. 

something heavy and wet off from her fore- 
head, and opened her eyes to think herself 
still dreaming ; for, instead of the familiar fur- 
niture of her room, she saw first Jason’s grim, 
white owl, showing cobwebs on its feathers 
in the strong morning light — then the books 
— the writing-table ; so that plainly she was in 
the study. Keally awake at this point, she 
started upright and found herself dressed — - 
remembered the past night, and felt that some 
one had bandaged her head with cold water. 
This some one could be no one but her hus- 
band, who seemed suddenly to have turned 
away his face, and gone to stand at a win- 
dow. She had not time, however, to speak, 
before he came back to her with so strange 
an expression, it awed, without alarming her ; 
taking her hands in his eagerly, he said : 
“You asked me last night if you had not 
been a good wife to me ; now, I will tell you 
what I think about it.” 

That was a very lengthy and earnest con- 


41 6 The Queer Home in 

versation which followed ; particularly when 
one considers that the parties were practical, 
elderly married people. However, only one 
part of it concerns outsiders. 

“ I know,” said Mr. Bernard, “ that it would 
not give you much comfort to promise you in 
the old way, that I never again will bring this 
trouble back upon you ; so I say, in your old 
way and in my new one, that, God helping 
me, I have tasted the last drop of strong 
drink that shall ever pass my lips. I believe 
your prayers brought me to this resolution, 
and now my prayers must be, that I hold 
firmly to it. I give myself without reserve 
into God’s care and keeping. We will begin 
a new life together. You shall no longer 
have the guarding of a horrid skeleton in 
your closet. I will labor, Sabby, to repay you 
for what you have done to reclaim me. 
While I have been sitting here, since I came 
back last night, I have determined, by God’s 
grace, to help you keep our boys from such a 


4i 7 


Rugby Court . 

life as I have led ; we will, if care, and prayer, 
and precept avail.” 

What said Aunt Sabby to all this ? One 
would have supposed that the dear, odd little 
body would have been eloquent as never be- 
fore. On the contrary, joy and gratitude 
struck her dumb. She let the happy tears 
roll down her cheeks, and sat winking her soft 
black eyes at the old owl, as if something in 
the aspect of that bird of wisdom had broken 
up the fountains of her soul. Jason had to 
give her another sentimental salute and tell 
her Billy was roaring around the lower hall, 
shouting to know where was “ Mother and 
the big brass toasting fork — ” before she real- 
ized fully that she was really the mistress of 
that same queer home in Rugby Court — only 
mistress now, with such a light, light heart. 
That day lingered in the recollection of all 
the children as very delightful, but in some 
way mysterious. They felt that something 
uncommon had occurred. It was written all 
27 


41 8 The Queer Home in 

over the faces of father and mother ; a sug- 
gestion of a new joy filled all the domestic 
atmosphere like a breath of spring. Felix, 
Lizette, and perhaps Harry, had their own 
ideas on the subject. They knew only one 
hope that could have so taken every cloud 
off the brow of their cherry little “ house- 
mother,” as LotJ.e called her. She went 
about among the younger ones, bubbling over 
with fun and jollity ; she was tenderly careful 
of the older ones’ comfort, as one is who 
need have no care for self. They came upon 
her often after that, in some quaint costume 
probably — dropped down amid her sewing, 
her pie-making, or her flower-pots ; a little 
Bible in her hand and a great peace in her 
face. Uncle Jason spent much time out of 
the study, and with her. As warm weather 
came on, they planned and planted the garden 
together. Dick used to tease them mer- 
cilessly, about acting out Adam and Eve in 
Paradise, and so forcing him, as he declared, 


Rugby Court . 419 

“ to be all the time playing Serpent to have 
the whole complete.” 

But was there never any relapse on Uncle 
Jason’s part? Whatever struggle may have 
gone on in the man’s soul, *or, if struggle 
there was any at all, God only knows. One 
thing is simply true : he prayed daily, that 
Divine Strength be added to his human 
strength, and he be kept from falling. Help 
must have been given, for he never fell. 
Aunt Sabby helped and watched and prayed. 
Her faith never failed now ; but many a time 
she broke out in her song of triumph : 

“ Through waves and clouds and storms 
He gently clears the way ; 

Wait thou His time, so shall thy night 
Soon end in joyous day.” 


XXII. 


“The flowers are always striving to grow wherever we 
suffer them, and the fairer, the closer. The world would yet 
be a place of peace, if we were all. peace-makers.” — Ruskin. 

About this time Father D’Hullin wrote 
Lizette a very friendly letter, in which he 
mentioned that Maurice was going very soon 
to France. He did not say for what purpose, 
or just when he would go, but wrote as if 
Lizette must have known. A few days after 
receiving the letter, Lizette said to Aunt- 
Sabby: “Uncle Jason asked me once to go 
to Canada with him this summer, and I said 
I did not care to go Vy do now ; I would like 
very much to go, about August.” 

“ That will be too late to see young Mr. 
D’Hullin. Why don’t you go before he 
sails?” 

“ Oh, I — I have seen him, you know. Now I 
(429) 


Rugby Court . 


421 


have a touch of home-sickness for the village, 
and to see Father D’Hullin.” 

Aunt Sabby could not understand Lizette 
and gave up the attempt ; only that day she 
talked very freely with Jason on the subject. 
“ Sometimes,” said she, “ I reason it all out 
like this : Maurice loved Lizette and thought 
he found out that she loved Harry. Lizette 
she found out (when it was too late) that she 
loved Maurice instead of Harry. Wasn’t that 
a ‘bitter pickle,’ as-the poet says?” 

“ Why don’t she write and tell him so, 
then,” calmly asked Uncle Jason, wiping his 
green glasses. 

“ Bless me ! The idea ! Just like a man. 
Well, Jakey dear, will you take her to Canada ? 
Maybe things might *dbme out as they do in 
story-books.” 

“ They never do.” 

“ I know it,” said his spouse ruefully. 
“ But will you take her ? ” 

“ Yes, I want to go to Canada.” 


422 


The Queer Home in 


And so, when August came, Uncle Jason 
and his niece started on a journey one lovely 
morning, leaving Aunt Sab wiping her eyes 
in the door-way, and declaring she should 
perish of loneliness ; while all about her in the 
air were flying countless old shoes — friendly 
tokens from the youthful well-wishers, who 
were to share her loneliness. When well 
under way, Uncle Jason proved a thoughtful 
and agreeable companion. Whenever Liz- 
ette chose to rest, he rested, and when she 
gave the word, they moved on ; only in the 
matter of losing bags and bundles did he 
swerve from the line of duty, and he never 
failed to make a mistake in money matters, 
when such a thing was possible. But Lizette 
was soon once more in Canada. She was 
borne on the noble fh/er, the sound of whose 
waves had never grown faint in her ears ; she 
had watched the shifting lights on the violet- 
tinted hills, and finally reached the little ham- 
let whose every landmark she knew, so well. 


Rugby Court . 


423 


She left her uncle at the one quaint tavern, 
and begged of him permission to visit her old 
haunts alone, while he rested. First of all, 
she climbed along the shore and sought the 
cabin, where so many years of her life had 
past, and, as it came in sight, she could easily 
believe the intervening time had not been. 
Nearing the place, things took on another as- 
pect. The great, overshadowing rock at the 
door was as green with moss as ever ; but 
the door itself was hanging upon one hinge ; 
while within, there were manifold marks of 
neglect and decay — a broken floor and a 
leaking roof. Evidently, no one had occu- 
pied the cabin since she left. Its scanty furni- 
ture had either been removed by Father 
D’Hullin, or stolen ; .so that, even in the 
bright and pleasant daylight, the place was 
as utterly desolate as if Melancholy herself 
dwelt there. Lizette only stepped over the 
threshold, then, giving one glance about, fled 
toward the church, Her path wound about 


424 The Queer Home in 

through the woods, and under the pines, 
whose aromatic odor filled the air. The birds 
sang gayly above her ; sweet, familiar wild 
flowers peeped out of not-forgotten nooks, 
and the pleasing home associations which 
had been so rudely dispelled by the cabin’s 
desolation, came back now with renewed 
force ; Rugby Court was, for the time, more 
unreal than Canada. She was a child again 
with Maurice, and saw him by her side — then 
saw the Maurice of to-day, as he looked that 
day Aunt Sabby so ruthlessly surprised them. 
Every step of the walk he was in her 
thoughts, as if an ocean had not rolled be- 
tween them, and, as she sadly believed, for- 
ever would. A turn out of the woods showed 
the well-remembered landscape : — the red- 
roofed houses, nestling in the valley ; the broad 
river beyond, white-capped by the wind ; 
the slender turret of the church, and the tall, 
gilt cross glittering, as if in all these months 
and years the sun had never ceased shining 


Rugby Court. 


425 


upon it. She had then but a short walk be- 
fore she stood in the priest’s open door. He 
was writing in the old leather-chair at the 
oaken table ; the ceiling looked lower than it 
used to, and the gray dust on Saint Jerome 
quite disfigured him. Jolie, fat and lazy in 
her old age, lay at the priest’s feet ; but Jacque 
was gone. Having made these observations, 
Lizette exclaimed : 

“ Me voici, mon pere ! ” 

“ Ciel ! ” cried Father D’Hullin, springing 
up and reaching out after her, as a doting 
father might for a daughter who had been in 
a “ far country.” 

He shook her hand, saying : “ Lizette, this 
is good ! Oh, you giddy girl, to run away 
from me, and think the Saints would keep 
you from destruction ! ” 

“Well, have they not? Am I not in a 
good state of preservation ? ” she answered, 
laughing, as he scrutinized her from head 
to foot, and vented his emotions in lively 
ejaculations. 


426 The Queer Home in 

“We shall see! we shall see, miss ! ” 

“ Now tell me all about yourself and — well, 
everybody and the village. ” 

“ I want to hear you talk/’ said the priest, 
fussing around like some hospitable old lady, in 
order to find her the most comfortable chair, 
and finally urging her into the big leather one. 

For two hours they talked uninterruptedly ; 
then Father D’Hullin’s supper was brought 
him by his housekeeper, who turned out to be 
old Jean. She greeted Lizette with more de- 
light than the latter thought becoming, con- 
sidering how little she had “ stood upon the 
order of her going,” in a day they each re- 
membered; but Lizette never harbored ill- 
feeling, and now received her enthusiasm 
kindly. It was growing late, so refusing a 
pressing invitation to supper, Lizette was 
obliged to go without having learned any- 
thing new of Maurice. Father D’Hullin 
constantly alluded to him, but Lizette could 
not force herself to ask the simple questions : 
“ Where is he, and what is he doing? ” 


Rugby Court . 427 

The longer she delayed, the less easy was 
it ; so she finally bade the priest good-night, 
and went toward the church-yard, feeling dis- 
appointed in some vague way. Suddenly 
Father D’Hullin flung his door open again, 
and called out: '‘Married, Lizette?” 

“No.” 

“ Going to be ? ” 

“No.” . 

“ What ! never ? Why, I thought that 
was 'the reason you gave up being a nun? 
You wanted to marry, didn’t you ? ” 

He laughed loud with mischievous malice, 
and cried out again : “ I tell Maurice I’ll vent- 
ure a good deal that was his reason for not 
becoming a priest. We shall see Mrs. Mau- 
rice before long ! ” Then he slammed the 
door to keep Jolie from snapping at a cat on 
the threshold. 

A walk through a graveyard at nightfall 
has never been deemed exhilarating, and cer- 
tainly Lizette did not find it cheerful on this 


428 The Queer Home in 

occasion, and the pine woods proved gloomy 
enough ; from thence she took the shore road 
home to her uncle. The priest’s last words 
repeated themselves in her thoughts ; while 
the sky grew dark, and the river ran darker 
yet. She returned to Uncle Jason sadder 
than Aunt Sabby had ever seen her — with 
dark rings about her eyes, without a care 
where she went next or when ; for the light 
heart that she had lost in Rugby Court she 
had not found in Canada. 

The next day Father D’Hullin came early 
to them, and after a talk with Uncle Jason, 
invited him to ride away behind his little Ca- 
nadian nag and see some very curious rock, 
of which Uncle Jason had heard and now de- 
sired to know more. Lizette preferred to 
stay in the village and seek her own diver- 
sion. She called, more from a sense of duty 
than from inclination, upon a few old ac- 
quaintances, and then spent a long time upon 
the water and in the woods. Had she, like 


Rugby Court. 429 

Harry, been much given to poetry, she would, 
many times during that day, have put her 
thoughts into words : 

“ Both of them speak of something gone : 

The pansy at my feet 
Doth the same tale repeat ; 

Whither is fled the same visionary gleam — 

Where is it now : the glory and the dream? ” 

She had not been within the old church ; 
so, toward night she asked the key from Jean, 
and entered. She paced slowly up and down 
the lonesome aisles, noted the few changes 
and repairs, half-unconsciously avoided the 
altar ; for it would seem like slighting an old 
friend to pass the Virgin by without an act of 
reverence. 

Suddenly she was startled by Father D’Hul- 
lin’s voice, as he pushed open the outer door 
and called : “ Lizette ! Lizette ! ” 

“ Yes, Father ; here I am ! ” 

“ Oh, that stupid Jean ! Why didn’t she 
say so before?” puffed the fat old Father, 


430 


The Queer Home in 


very red in the face. “ I have just come 
home ; I left your uncle at the village, and 
just now sent Maurice after him, or to see 
you both ; and now here you are ! ” 

“ Maurice here ? ” 

“ Why, yes, of course. Didn’t you expect 
to see him sooner or later ? I should have 
thought so. He is in Montreal most of the 
time ; but came up here or to Quebec on 
business last week. May be he has not start- 
ed yet ; I will go back quick and see ! Come, 
may be you will be in time.” 

Father D’Hullin drew his head out of the 
door as out of a trap, and vanished. 

Lizette’s heart had given a great bound, 
and now fluttered wildly. She stood trem- 
bling, not knowing whether to go or to stay. 
In the rear of the church another door shut 
loudly, then rapid steps through a room be- 
hind the altar. Maurice was coming ! com- 
ing! 

It was all very subdued when he had come ; 


431 


Rugby Court. 

only a touch of hands, two very white faces, 
and something said about being extremely 
glad to see one another. Then a silence — 
only of a second, perhaps ; yet so quick are 
some persons in making observations, that 
Maurice saw that there was no ring on the 
hand he held. 

“ You have not changed, Lizette — unless 
in name ? ” 

“ And not in that.” 

Pride gave a certain animation to her re- 
sponse. He burst out impetuously: “You 
are not free ? ” Then, seeing the hot blood 
rush over her cheeks and brow, he faltered, 
ashamed : “ Pardon me this once, Lizette. I 
thought I had conquered myself! ” 

She fqrgot Father D’Hullin — last night — 
everything — and answered: “Yes, I am free.” 

The instant she had spoken she knew what 
she had seemed to invite, and was smitten 
with confusion — a confusion so beautiful, so 
inspiring to Maurice, that he cried eagerly : 


432 The Queer Home in 

“ You know what I told you once, Lizette ? 
I loved you then, and I love you now as no 
one else can ! Could you not teach yourself 
to love me sometime ? ” 

Lizette’s answer was as straightforward as 
if coquetry had never entered into the heart 
of woman. She looked up, saying, with her 
eyes full of happy light : “I began to learn 
as soon as you left me ! ” 

The answer Maurice gave was too impas- 
sioned to record for cool analysis ; but by the 
throbbing of his heart Lizette knew the joy 
she had given him. Stern old St. Hilarion, 
in sackcloth and cowl, glared down at the 
lovers from a pillar opposite, and the door in 
the rear slammed again, as it let in Father 
D’Hullin. They were so far apart when he 
entered that he missed them both for a mo- 
ment, and when he found them he could not 
see their faces, that part of the church where 
they stood was so dim. He urged them out 
into the porch, where, in the sunshine, Mau- 


Riigby Court. 


433 


rice laid his hand on Father D’H allin’s arm, 
saying : “ Lizette will be a sister, after all ! ” 

The priest pulled the key from the door, 
and looked up, astonished. 

“ Your sister when she is my wife.” 

Without a word, with but one glance into 
Maurice’s face, his brother turned to leave 
them. Lizette sprang after him, running 
lightly between the graves, and stopped just 
in his pathway. 

“You are not angry, Father — or very much 
grieved ? Do not be, for we are so happy ! 
We have made you trouble, but we never will 
any more ; can’t you forgive us just this ? ” 

She conquered him, as she knew she would, 
for he muttered : “ Just this — just everything,” 
and gave a reluctant smile that sent her back 
to Maurice rejoicing. 

“ I knew he would find it best sooner or 
later,” said Maurice. “ He will, in time, 
learn, as I have, that * Christ’s love ’ rebukes 
no home love ; breaks no ties of kin apart 

28 


434 


The Queer Home in 


Better heresy of doctrine than heresy of heart. 
And now talk to me of yourself, Lizette.” 

They lingered in the old porch until the 
sunset splendor faded off the water and the 
sky. They talked, yet it would be worse 
than vain to chronicle all their words. An 
imagination not of necessity vivid can sup- 
ply the omission. 

The next day Lizette wrote a lengthy let- 
ter to Aunt Sabby. And now, in order to see 
just how matters progressed in that good 
lady’s domain, let us return to Rugby Court. 
Just after the letter arrived, Aunt Sabby had 
read it aloud to Harry one morning, and looked 
curiously at him to see what its effect might 
be. He yawned a little affectedly, after which 
he said, quite naturally : “It was all for the 
best. I would not put things back and start 
over again engaged to Lizette, even if she 
loved me. We were not suited the one to 
the other; and I see it now. She is keyed 
up to another pitch, and there would be dis- 


Rugby Court. 435 

cord sooner or later. She would have tried to 
govern me, and I would have found it out 
instantly. My wife, may be, will do that very 
thing ; but, as Dick says, it will * be done by 
coaxing and not sass.’ Maurice is a hero to 
her. I never would have been.” 

“ Harry,” said Aunt Sabby, in a very low 
tone, after she had rocked and cogitated, and 
concocted the deepest trick she had played 
for a long time. “ Harry, a word to the wise 
is sufficient. Let us, for the time being, sup- 
pose that you are wise.” 

“ All right, mother ! and now for the 
‘ word ’ ! ” 

She folded her letter over and over, then 
with many a sage nod, she remarked : “I 
don’t believe there ever was a more bewitch- 
ing girl than Lotte ; and it has often occurred 
to me, that her father has probably the idea 
that she will marry some wealthy German, as 
it would be highly proper she should. She 
comes here a good deal, and you try to make 


43 « 


The Queer Home in 


it very pleasant for her, when you happen to 
be home. Now, Harry, had you not better 
be a little cooler and more formal toward her 
than you have been ? Lotte is the most guile- 
less girl imaginable ; she knows few gentle- 
men ; she always sees you in an amiable light, 
and before she knew it, she might be making 
you her hero, when he, in all probability, is to 
be quite a different individual. Of course, 
you must not startle, or wound, or be rudely 
indifferent to her — but think it over.” 

Harry received his mother’s advice in total 
silence. 

That afternoon Lotte came to bring Aunt 
Sabby a new cap she had been making, and 
Aunt Sabby read to her, also, Lizette’s letter, 
then she fell to talking about her boys — about 
Harry ; and she confided in Lotte to the ex- 
tent of telling her what she already knew: 
that he had once been engaged to Lizette, but 
the affair came to nought, much to Harry’s 
chagrin then, but now to his entire satisfaction. 


437 


Rugby Court . 

Lotte listened with the pink stealing into 
her cheeks, and a question whether she was 
most surprised or pleased at the confidence 
reposed in her. And now, we regret to con- 
fess, Aunt Sabby indulged in hypocrisy. 
Y ears before, this good and usually straight- 
forward woman had been guilty of the same 
sin. Her children were small ; two of them 
were sick, and she desired the afflicted couple 
to drink a healing draught. She knew their 
carnal natures, and so she urgently requested 
that they should drink not at all, or only 
sparingly. With secret joy she saw them 
drain the last drop from the cup. On this 
occasion she drew her chair close to Lotte’s, 
and whispered: “ I want to ask you, Lotte, 
to be awfully careful of two people’s happi- 
ness — of Harry’s and of mine. He is lonely 
nowadays, and just in that mood, when, if a 
young girl in her innocent kindness lets him 
see her very often, he would learn to love her, 
I have not a doubt. Now, dear, he sees you 


438 The Queer Home in 

(and I want him to, he is so sort of down) 
very much, and so, perhaps, before you. are 
aware (unless you are warned) all his tender- 
ness will go out after you, and you be not 
able to give him anything in return. This 
would hurt him far more than anything in his 
past. He likes you now extremely, and 
might easily imagine you had just the quali- 
ties he wanted in a wife. (As you have act- 
ually). Now you will forgive me, dear child ! 
You don’t know how anxious I am for the 
precious boy’s happiness ! ” 

And so she was, the blessed old hypocrite. 
After that, Lotte declared she could not stay to 
tea ; but went home with June-roses blossom- 
ing out in her cheeks, and feet that longed to 
dance through the staid old town. Harry 
acted immediately upon his mother’s advice 
by going around to spend the evening with 
Lotte- to see, undoubtedly, if there were any 
grounds for her apprehensions. It is impos- 
sible to tell whether or not he was sufficiently 


Rugby Court. 


439 


cool, because people’s ideas on such matters 
are so very different ; but he talked very 
earnestly, showed a deep interest in her gen- 
eral welfare, and — seemed at one time to be 
feeling her pulse. The result of this one 
evening’s investigation could not have been 
unpleasant ; for he repeated his visits times 
without number. In fact, an impartial specta- 
tor would have said that if Aunt Sab’s sup- 
posititious German lover ever intended to 
make his appearance, now was his time. De- 
lays are .often fatal. 


XXIII. 


" After winter followeth summer. 

After night the day retumeth, 

And after a tempest — a great calm.” 

—Thomas a Ker^pis. 

It is a murderous instinct in any reader, to 
require, before he has done with a story, the 
knowledge of the last days of every character 
therein. It is better to shut the covers of a 
book, as we shut the door of our friend’s 
house, leaving behind us lights, and fires, and 
loving home-life. Let us leave these merry 
young people not so very much older than 
we found them. We have not a heart for 
later years ; and why, as Lamb asks : “ Must 
everything smack of man and manish? Is 
the world all grown up ? Is childhood dead ? ” 
We will leave, just as it is, Rugby Court; its 

drooping elms and moss-green fountain ; the 
(440) 


44i 


Rugby Court. 

sunshine and bird-song without, the love and 
child-life within the cheery old home. The 
crooked house may get more crooked every, 
year; yet, while Aunt Sabby reigns there, its 
mistress, its motto will be unchanged : “ They 
helped every one his neighbor, and said to 
his brother : Be of good courage/’ 

It is another summer afternoon one year 
later ; but in the vine-covered piazza sits Mar- 
jory, bending over a portfolio outspread in 
her lap. She is designing an illustration for 
a page of her favorite Faerie Queene; for Mar- 
jory promises well to become an artist. 

Behind her, a little in the shade, where the 
delicate shadow and leaf-tracery trembles on 
her pretty light dress, sits a little lady, on 
whom the eye might rest with delight. She 
is the bride : the admiration of the Court and 
the pride of every boy under Aunt Sabby’s 
roof. Lizette, you think ? Well, no ; for this 
petite figure is round and dimpled, not tall or 
stately in the least. The hair that crowns 


442 The Queer Home in 

this shapely head is not another hue than the 
golden light which sifts over it. The small 
lady sings softly to herself : 

“O, zarte Sehnsucht, siisses Hoffen ! 

Der ersten Liebe goldne Zeit, 

Das Auge sieht den Himmel offen, 

Es schwelgt das Herz in Seligkeit." 

Aunt Sabby’s oldest son came up behind 
and took tender possession of her. 

“You look too happy, my Lotte, when I 
am away ! I must concentrate my jealousy 
on some one of my numerous brothers and kill 
him outright ; as it is, I suspect them all of ^ 
being in your thoughts, and so I have to smile 
and smile, and be a villain, without any re- 
'venge. Now, I can’t be happy when I am 
away from you.” 

“ Nonsense,” said Lotte, with an upward 
glance of tyrannical bliss, if we may be al- 
lowed the expression. She knew her power 
and was not jealous of anything or anybody 
in the present or the past. Harry had told 


Rugby Court. 


443 


her, long ago, “ about that foolish little affair 
between himself and Lizette. Neither knew 
what the other really needed, and then it is 
the most natural thing in the world for a 
young fellow to fancy himself in love with the 
first young girl he is associated with/’ 

Just after Harry, came Aunt Sabby, and 
cried out to Cliff, whom she espied on the 
street: “Cliff, come in! Felix wants you. 
He says, if you will help him, he will go for 
a longer walk than usual. ” 

Cliff opened the gate and came in — tall — so 
tall and homely ! He presented a huge, red 
peony to Marjory, for whom he had the pro- 
foundest admiration. She took it as sweetly 
as if it had been a dew-drop ; for this six- 
footer was petted and patronized by Marjory. 
She hemmed his best pocket-handkerchiefs, 
and tried to interest him in art. He could 
not, to save his life, see the beauty of her 
“studies from the antique ; ” but he praised 
indiscriminately. If this did not please, he 


444 


The Queer Home in 


tried honest criticism. “ Laocoon is that thing? 
Father and sons ? Well, now, aint it an aw- 
ful sort of a family snarl ! ” 

Cliff was a very intelligent mechanic — a 
stone-cutter, and his association with this 
family had improved his manners, spurred up 
his ambition, and helped to make a man of 
him. He went into the house, after Aunt Sab 
spoke to him, and returned with his strong 
arm through Felix’s tremulous one. 

“Take good care of him, Cliff,” said Aunt 
Sabby, putting straight a lock of the old man’s 
white hair with the motherly touch so natural 
to her. “The sun will do you good if you 
don’t get too tired.” 

“Yes, it is a most wonderful day,” said 
Felix, with a pleased look at the cloudless 
sky, as Cliff led him toward the Court. 

“ He thinks every day nicer than the one 
before — the blessed old soul,” whispered Aunt 
Sab. 

Felix turned back at the gate, and seeing 


Rugby Cou^t. 445 

the bright faces that watched him, said : 
“ Good-bye, all ! ” 

When they were under the elms, Felix said: 
“ Now to the Library.” 

“ It is a pretty long walk, aint it? ” asked 
Cliff. “What makes you go to-day? take a 
cooler afternoon for it.” 

“ It would be a pleasure to me — I love that 
place so, Cliff! I can’t tell you how precious 
the very stones are to me. This old body 
has lived along, but the best half of me never 
seemed to get away from that Library ; so I 
want to go and make it a visit.” 

Cliff had nothing to say, and soon he was 
glad to indulge the old man in the whim. 
He took such new interest in the life of the 
streets. He gossipped half an hour with the 
workman on a church, and was greatly 
amused by the greeting of an apple-woman 
who had known him in years gone by. 
When they reached the Library, and stood 
in the cool and lofty porch, he ejaculated: “ I 


44-6 


The Queer ETome in 


declare for it, Cliff ! it seems as if I had been 
inside all the time, and just come out here to 
get a breath of air, as I often used to do.” 

Cliff had somewhat the same impression ; 
because, beyond the outer door such familiar 
objects soon meet his eye. He himself mended 
that broken threshold. He looked for the 
worn places in the carpet, and found them 
quite threadbare now. The afternoon sun- 
shine poured through the stained oriel win- 
dow, and rainbow tinted the lower shelf of 
books in Alcove A, exactly as he could have 
told it would, without a glance that way. He 
said this to Felix, but he paid no attention, 
so earnestly, so almost reverently was he 
gazing up and down the long room ; when he 
did speak, he said: “You need not wait 
longer than you want to, Cliff. I would like 
you to leave me until near dark, then come 
for me if you will.” 

“ All right ! How natural you do look here 
— you seem to belong with all the rest.” 


Rugby Court. 


447 


“Haven’t I always said so, Cliff?” 

A pleased smile flickered over Felix’s pale 
little visage. It pleased him as if it had been 
a compliment. When Cliff left him, he rub- 
bed his thin hands together, smiled brightly, 
as he walked off very briskly for him, and 
went here and there, curious to see all ; yet 
carefully avoiding the “ Historical Society 
Rooms.” When no one noticed him, he 
mounted^ his old steps to see if the cover he 
pasted upon Chambers’ Encyclopaedia wore 
well. He discovered a mistake in three new 
labels, and once — lost to everything save his 
past life — he hummed to himself : 

“ Our friends are a' gane, 

We’ve lang been left alane. 

We’ll a’ meet again 
In the land o’ the leal.” 


At length h’s limbs trembled as if they 
would fail him, and he remembered his pres- 
ent weakness. He sought out the particular 
alcove in which, as a boy, he had read Robin- 


448 The Queer Home in 

son Crusoe. He sat down in one corner 
with a small parchment-covered volume, the 
old copy of Izaak Walton ; and as he rested, 
he tenderly turned its yellow leaves. By and 
by he fell to seeing thereon, not the veritable 
context, but chapters from his own life. Again 
in the sunshine of the open door, came Elsie, 
“fair, fair, with golden hair,” then all joys, all 
griefs, and experiences out of the past were 
upon him. He lived again in the dismantled 
rooms. He sang cradle songs. He fancied 
home and heaven were not two words, but 
one. Elsie faded away, and after her, in the 
gray shadow, crept little Sin — so wee, so real, 
the old man’s longing arms stretched out 
after the elfin child, and grasped thin air. 
Back then into darkness he slipped — into 
doubt, into hate, into the frenzy of grief — 
then struggling, praying, came up out of the 
depths. He lived his life over before calm 
came ; and then he was so almost exhausted, 
that the cold drops glistened under the white 


Rugby Court . 


449 


hair on his forehead. After that, rest came 
to Felix and great calmness. It was the time 
of day when — 1 

“ Shafts of sunshine from the west 
Paint the dusky windows red — 

Darker shadows, deeper rest 
Underneath and overhead.” 

Therefore the strange, new light on his 
face came partly from without ; yet it was 
none the less as if a Spirit ministered to him. 
The quiet order of the place went on all about 
him. A scholar in the next alcove strained 
his eyes over a musty folio ; a young man on 
the right furtively copied a love poem for his 
own use ; and farther on, the present Libra- 
rian sat in state and dignity. No one dis- 
turbed Felix until it was nearly dark; then 
Cliff came to take him home. He sat still in 
the corner, his hands clasped, his head bent ; 
out of his lap the old book had fallen open 
to the floor, and Cliff was too late. Another 
messenger had been before him. 

29 


450 The Queer Home in Rugby Court 

Penniless, childless old man ! Do you 
think he was not mourned for? Do you 
fancy that as years went by, his memory did 
not “smell sweet and blossom in the dust?” 
I can tell you that long after the present, if 
there remains not one stone upon another of 
the Library he loved, his face and form will 
not have faded from the memory of those to 
whom he turned back that summer afternoon, 
saying so gently : “ Good-bye all ! ” 


THE END. 


OF THE 





AND 

PUBLICATION HOUSE. 


Hon. WM. E. DODGE, T. T. SHEFFIELD, J. N. STEARNS, 
President. Treasurer. Cor. Sec. and Pub. Agt. 


The National Temperance Society, organized in 1866 for the purpose of supplying 
a sound and able temperance literature, have already stereotyped and published over 
four hundred and fifty publications of all sorts and sizes, from the one-page tract up to 
the bound volume of 500 pages. This list comprises books, tracts, and pamphlets, con- 
taining essays, stories, sermons, arguments, statistics, history, etc., upon every phase 
of the question. Special attention has been given to the department for 
SUNDAY-SCHOOL LIBRARIES. 


Seventy-seven vols. have already been issued, written by some of the best authors 
in the land. These have been carefully examined and approved by the Publication 
Committee of the Society, representing the various religious denominations and tempe- 
rance organizations of the country, which consists of the following members : 

Peter Carter, Rev. Halsey Moore, Rev. J. B. Dunn, 

Rev. Alfred Taylor, James Black, Rev. R. S. MacArthur, 

T. A. Brouwer, Rev. A. G. Lawson, R. R. Sinclair, 

J. N. Stearns, A. A. Robbins, Rev. Wm. Howell Taylor. 

These volumes have been cordially commended by leading clergymen of all denomi- 
nations, and by various National and State bodies all over the land. The following is 
the list, which can be procured through the regular Sunday-School trade, or by sending 
direct to the rooms of the Society. 


At Lion’s Mouth. i2mo, 410 

pages. By Miss Mary Dwinell Chellis, 

Adopted. i8mo, 236 pp. By 

Mrs. E. J. Richmond, - - 60 

Andrew Douglass. 18010,232 

pages, - 75 

Aunt Dinah’s Pledge. 121110, 

ai8 pages. By Miss Mary Dwinell 
Chellis, 1 25 

Alice Grant ; or, Faith and 

Temperance. i2mo, 352 pages. By Mrs. 
E. J . Richmond. 1 25 


All for Money. 12010, 340 

pages. By Miss Mary Dwinell Chellis, 

SI 25 

Barford Mills. 121110, 246 

pages. By Miss M. E. Winslow, 1 00 

Best Fellow in the World, 

The. i2mo, 352 pages. By Mrs. \. 
McNair Wright, - - - 1 25 

Broken Hock, The. xSmo, 

139 pages. By Kruna, - - - 50 

Brook, and the Tide Turn- 
ing, The. i2mo, 220 pages, - 1 00 


The National Temperance Society's Books . 


Come Home, Mother. i8mo, 

143 pp. By Nelsie Brook. Illustrated 
with six choice engravings, - 80 50 

Drinking Fountain 

The. i2mo, 192 pages, - 

Dumb Traitoi, The. i2mo, 

336 pp. By Margaret E. Wilmer, 1 £5 

Eva’s Engagement Ring. 

i2mo, 189 pp. By Margaret E.- Wilmer, 

90 

Echo Bank. r8mo, 269 pages. 

By Ervie, 85 

Esther Maxwell’s Mistake. 

i8mo, 236 pp. By Mrs. E. N. Janvier, 

1 00 

Fanny Percy’s Knight-Er- 

rant. i2mo, 267 pp. By Mary Graham, 

1 00 


Stories, 
1 00 


Fatal Dower, The. i8mo, 

220 pp. By Mrs. E. J. Richmond, 00 


Fire Fighters, The. i2mo, 

294 pp. By Mrs. J. E. McConaughy, 

1 25 


Fred’s Hard Fight. i2mo, 

334 pp. By Miss Marion Howard, 

1 25 

Frank Spencer’s Rule of 

Life. i8mo, 180 pp. By John W. Kir- 
ton, go 

Frank Oldfield; or, Dost 

and Found. i2mo, 403 pp., - 1 50 

Gertie’s Sacrifice ; or, 

Glimpses at Two Lives. i8mo, 189 no. 
By Mrs. F. D. Gage, - - - 50 


Glass Cable, The. i2mo, 288 

pp. By Margaret E. Wilmer, - 1 ;£5 

Hard Master, The. i8mo, 

278 pp. By Mrs. J. E. McConaughy, 

Se> 

Marker Family, The. 12010, 

336 pp. By Emily Thompson, - 1 *£5 

History of a Threepenny 

Bit. i8mo, 216 pp., ... 75 

History of Two Fives, The. 

By Mrs. Lucy E. Sandford. i8mo, 132 
pp. A tale of actual fact, with an intro- 
duction by Rev. S. I. Prime, D D., 50 


Hopedale Tavern, and 

What it Wrought. 12010, 252 pp. By f. 
Wm. Van Namee, - - - 81 00 

Hole in the Bag, and Other 

Stories, The. By Mrs. J. P. Ballard. 
i2mo, - 1 00 


How Could he Escape ? 

i2mo, 324 pp. By Mrs. J. McNair 
Wright, - - - - - 1 25 


Humpy Dumpy. i2mo, 316 

pp. By Rev. J . J . Dana, - 1 25 

Jewelled Serpent, The. 

i2mo, 271 pp. By Mrs. E. J . Richmond, 

1 OO 

John Bentley’s Mistake. 

i8mo, 177 pp. By Mrs. M. A. Holt, 50 

Job Tufton’s Rest. i2mo, 

33 2 PP*» 1 25 

Jug-or-Not. i2mo, 346 pp. 

By Mrs. J. McNair Wright, - 125 

Fife Cruise of Captain Bess 

Adams, The. i2mo, 413 pp. By Mrs. 1 . 
McNair Wright, - - - 1 50 

Fittle Girl in Black. i2mo, 

212 pp. By Margaret E. Wilmer, 90 


McAllisters, The. i8mo, 211 

pp. By Mrs. E. J. Richmond, - 50 

Model Fandlord, The. i8mo, 

202 pp. By Mrs. M. A. Holt, - 60 

More Excellent Way, A, 

and Other Stories. By M. E. Winslow. 
i2ino, 217 pages, - 1 00 

Mr. Mackenzie’s Answer. 

i2mo, 352 pp. By Faye Huntington, 

1 25 


National Temperance Ora- 
tor, The. i2mo, 288 pp. By Miss I,. 
Penney, - - - - - 1 OO 

Nettie Foring. iamo, 352 pp. 

By Mrs. Geo. S. Downs, - 1 25 

Norman Brill’s Fife Work. 

By Abby Eldndge. 121110, 218 pp., 

1 00 

Nothing to Drink. i2mo, 40c 
pp. By Mrs. T. McNair Wright, 1 50 


The National Temperance Society's Books. 


Old Brown Pitcher, The. 

i2mo, 222 pp. By the author of “Sus : e’s 
Six Birthdays,” - - - - 00 

Old Times. i2mo, 351 pp. By 
Miss M. D. Chellis, - - 125 

Out of the Fire. i2mo, 420 

pp. By Miss Mary Dwinell Chellis, 

1 25 

Our Parish. iSmo, 252 pp. 

By Mrs. Emily Pearson, - - 75 

Packington Parish , and the 

Diver’s Daughter. i2mo, 327 pp. By 
M. A. Pauli,' - - - -125 

Paul Brewster & Son. By 

Helen A. Chapman. i2mo, 238 pp., 

1 00 

Philip Eckert’s Struggles 

and Triumphs. i8mo, 216 pp. By the 
author of “ Margaret Clair,” - 60 

Pitcher of Cool Water,, 

The. i8mo, 180 pp. By T. S. Arthur. 1 

50 

Rachel Noble’s Experi- 
ence. i8mo, 325 pp. By Bruce Ed- 
wards, 90 

Red Bridge, The. iSmo, 321 

pp. By Thrace Talman, - - 90 

Roy’s Search; or, Lost in 

the Cars. i2mo, 364 pp. By Helen C. 
Pearson, - - - - - 1 25 

Rev. Dr. Willoughby and 

his Wine. nmo, 458 pp. By Mrs. 
Mary Spring Walker, - - 1 50 


Seymours, The. i 2 mo, 231 

pp By Miss L. Bates, - - 1 00 

Silver Castle. By Margaret E. 

Wilmer. 121110, 340 -sages, - 1 23 

Temperance Doctor, The. 

i2mo, 370 pp. By Miss Mary Dwinell 
Chellis, 1 25 

Temperance Speaker, The, 

ByJ. N. Stearns, - 75 

Temperance Anecdotes. 

i2ino, 288 pp., - - - - 100 

Tom B linn’s Temperance 


Society, and Other Stones. 121110, 316 op. 

1 25 

Time Will Tell. i2mo, 307 

pp. By Mrs. Wilson, - - 1 00 

Tim’s Troubles. i2mo, 350 

pp. By M. A. Pauli, - - 1 50 

Vow at the Bars. iSmo, 108 
pp., 40 


Wealth and Wine. 121110 , 

320 pp. By Miss Mary Dwinell Chellis, 

1 25 

White Rose, The. By Mary 


J. Hedges. 121T10, 320 pp., - 1 25 

Work and Reward, i&mo, 
183 pp. By Mrs. M. A. Holt, - 50 

Zoa Rodman. i2mo, 262 pp. 
By Mrs. E. J. Richmond, - 1 00 


NEW BOOKS. 


The Brewer’s Fortune. 

i2mo,44opp By Miss Mary Dwinell 
Chellis. 1 6 0 

Our CotTee -Room. 12mo, 

278 pp. By Elizabeth Cotton. 

1 00 

A Piece of Silver. 18mo, 

180 pp- By Josephine Pollard. 

50 


A Strange Sea Story 12 m<>, 

427 pp. By Mrs. J. McNair Wright. 

1 50 

Ten Cents, 12mo, 334 pp. 

Miss Mary Dwinell Chellis. 1 2 -* 

The Wife’s Engagement 
Ring. i2mo, 278 pp. By T. S. 
Arthur. 1 25 


The National Temperance Society's Books , 


MISCELLANEOUS PUBLICATIONS. 


Alcohol : Its Place and 

Power, By James Miller: and The Use 
and Abuse of Tobacco. By John Lizars, 

$100 

Alcohol : Its Nature and 

Effects. By Charles A. Story, M.D., 

90 

Bacchus Dethroned. i2mo, 

248 pp. By Frederick Powell, 1 00 

Band of Hope Manual. Per 

dozen, 60 

Bases of the Temperance 

Reform, The. i2mo, 224 pp. By Rev. 
Dawson Burns, 1 00 

Bound Volume of Tracts. 

No. x. 500 pp., 1 00 

Bound Volume of Tracts. 

No. 2. 384 pp., 1 00 

Bound Volume of Sermons, 

1 50 

Bible Rule of 

By Rev. Heo. Duffl 

Bible Wines; or, The Laws 

of Fermentation and W nos of the An- 
cients. izmo, 139 pp. By Rev. Win 
Patton, D.D. Paper, 30 cts.; cloth, 

60 

Bound Volume of Almanac 

for 1869, ’70, '71, ’72, ’73, ’74. '75. ’7f'> 

1 00 

Centennial Temperance 

Memorial Volume. This is a large oc- 
tavo volume of r,ooo pages, containing 
the full report of the proceedings of th 
International Temperance Conference ii 
P'n ladelph.a in June, 1876, and a histor. 
of the d fferent temperance organization 
in th s country and Europe; also valu - 
able essays on alpiost every phase of th 
question. Sold by subscription. 5 CM) 

Catechism on Alcohol. Per 

dozen, 6b 

Communion Wine ; or, Bi- 
ble Temperance. By Rev. Win. Thay 
Paper, ‘40 cts. ; cloth, - - 50 


Temperance, 

eld, D.D., - 60 


Cup of Death, The. A Con 

cert Exerc se. 16 pages. By Rev. W. 
F. Crafts 6 cts. each ; per doz., $0 60 

Delavan’s Consideration 0/ 

the Temperance Argument and History, 

1 50 

Drops of Water. i2mo, 133 

pp. By Miss Ella Wheeler, - 75 

Four Pillars of Tempe- 
rance. By J. W. Kirton, - - 75 

Forty Years’ Fight with 

the Drink Demon. i2mo, 400 pp. By 
Chas. Jewett, M.D., - * 1 50 

Hints and Helps for Woman’s 

Chr.st an Temperance Work. By Miss 
Frances E. W.llard. i2mo, 72 pp., 45 

Liquor Laws of the United 
States, ------ 45 

Lunarius: A Visitor from 

the Moon, ----- 35 

Medical Use of Alcohol, 

The. By James Edmunds, M.D Pa- 
per, 45 cts. ; cloth, - - - 60 

National Temperance Al- 

manac, ... 10 

On Alcohol. By Benjamin W. 

Richardson, M.A , F.R.S., of London, 
with an introduction by Dr. Willard 
Parker, of New York i2mo, 190 pp. 
Paper covers, 50 cts. ; cloth, 100 

Our Wasted Resources; or, 

The Miss ng Lmk in the T-mpe ranee 
Reform. By Win. Hargreaves. i2ino, 
220 pp., 13 5 

Packet of Assorted Tracts, 

No. 1. Comprising Nos. 1 to 53 of our 
list, making 250 pp., ... 45 

Packet of Assorted Tracts, 

No. 2. Comprising Nos. 53 to xoo, m ik- 
ng 250 pp., - - - - 45 

Packet of Assorted Tracts, 

No. 3. Comprising Nos. xoo to 150 of 
our list, making 240 pages, - - 45 

Packet of Temperance 

Leaflets, No. 1. 128 pp., - - 10 


4 


The National Temperance Society's Books, 


Packet of Temperance 

Leaflets, No. 2. By T. S. Arthur. 128 
PP-. $0 10 

jacket of Prohibition 

Documents, - 25 

Packet of Crusade Docu- 

ments, - - - - ■ 25 

Packet No. 1 of Pictorial 

Tracts tor Children, ... 

Packet No. 2 of Pictorial 

Tracts for Children, - 25 

Prohibition Does Prohibit; 

or, Prohibition not a Failure. 121110, 48 
pp. By J. N. Stearns, - - 10 

Scripture Testimony against 

Intoxicating Wine. By Rev. Wm. 
Ritchie, 60 

Temperance Cyclopaedia. 

By Rev. J. B. Wakeley. 121110, 244 pp.. 

2 00 


Temperance Lesson Leaves. 

No. 1, 2, 3, each 8 pp. By Rev D. C. 
Babcock. Per 10O, - - Si OO 

Temperance Catechism. 

Per dozen, ..... 60 

Temperance Exercise. By 

Rev. Edmund Clark, - * - 10 

Text-Book of Temperance. 

By Dr. F. R. Lees, - • - 1 50 

Two Ways, The. A Concert 

Exercise. 16 pp. By George Thayer. 6 
cts. each ; per dozen, - - - 60 

Woman’s Temperance Cru- 
sade, The. By Rev. YV. C. Steele, with 
an introduction by Dr. Dio Lewis. 121110, 

83 PP-, 25 

Zoological Temperance 

Convention By Rev. Edward Hitch- 
cock, D.D., 75 


PAMPHLETS. 


Bound and How ; or. Alco- 
hol as a Narcotic. By Charles Jewett, 
M.D. i2mo, 24 pp , ... 10 

Buy Your Own Cherries. 

By John W. Kirton. i2mo, 32 pp., 20 

Example and Effort. By 

Hon. S. Colfax. i2mo, 24 pp., - 15 

Father Mathew. Address by 
Hon. Henry Wilson. i2mo, 24 pp., 15 

Illustrated Temperance Al- 
phabet, 25 

John Swig. A Poem. By Ed- 
ward Carswell. i2mo, 24 pp. Illustrated 
with eight characteristic engravings, 
printed on tinted paper, - - 15 

On Alcohol. By Benjamin W. 
Richardson, M.A., M.D., F.R.S., of 
London, with an introduction by Dr. 
Willard Parker, of New York. i2mo, 
190 pages. Cloth, $1 ; paper covers, 50 


Prohibition Does Prohibit ; 

or, Prohibition Not a Failure. By J. N. 
Stearns. i2mo, 48 pp., - - 10 

Proceedings of National 

Temperance Conventions held in Sara- 
toga in 1865, Cleveland in 1868, Saratoga 
in 1873, Chicago in 1875; each, - 25 

Rum Fiend, The, and 

Other Poems. By William H. Burleigh. 
i2mo, 46 pp. Illustrated with three 
wood engravings, designed by Edward 
Carswell, ----- 20 

Scriptural Claims of Total 

Abstinence. By Rev. Newman Hall. 
i2mo, 62 pp., - - - - 15 

Suppression of the Liquor 

Traffic. A Prize Essay, by Rev. II. D. 
Kitchell, President of the Middlebury 
College. i2mo, 48 pp., - - 10 

Temperance and Educa- 
tion. i8mo, 34 pp. By Mark Hopkins, 
D.D., President of Williams College, 


5 


The Natio?ial Temperance Society's Books . 

MUSIC AND SONG BOOKS. 


Band of Hope Melodies. 

Paper, §4) 10 

Bugle Notes for the Tempe- 
rance Army. Ecliicd by W. F. Sherwm 
and J. N. Stearns. Price, paper, 30 
cts. ; boards, .... 35 

Board covers, per doz., - - 4 00 

Paper covers, per doz., - - 3 40 

Campaign Temperance 

Hymns, for Temperance Singers every- 
where. 30 hymns, 24 pp. Per 100, 3 00 

Our Songs. 8 pages. Contain- 
ing 1 7 hymns suitable for public meet- 
ings. Per ioo, - - - 1 00 


Ripples of Song. Price 15 cts., 

paper covers ; per ioo, S12 Board 
covers, ‘20 c s. ; per ioo, sis oo 

Temperance Hymns in sheet 

form, size o% x 7% inches, containing 
hymns suitable for Public Temperance 
Gatherings and Organizations. Price, 
on thick paper, S ^2 P er hundred ; on card 
board, So per hundred. 

Temperance Chimes. Price, 

in paper, 30 cts. ; board covers, 3*5 
Board covers, per doz., 4 00 

Paper covers, per doz., - - 3 40 

Temperance Hymn-Book. 

Price, paper covers, lij cts. each ; sio 
per 100. Board covers, 15 cts. each ; 
per 100, 13 OO 


TWENTY-FOUR PAGE PAMPHLETS. 

Five Cents each ; Sixty Cents per Dozen. 


Is Alcohol Food ? By Dr. F. 

It. Lees. 

Adulteration of Liquors. 

By Rev. J. B. Dunn. 

A High Fence of Fifteen 

Bars. By the author of “ Lunarius.” 

Bible Teetotalisrn. By Rev. 

Peter Stryker. 

Dramshops, Industry, and 

Taxes. By A. Burwell. 

Drinking Usages of Society. 

By Bishop Alonzo Potter. 

Duty of the Church torvard 

the Present Temperance Movement, 
The. By Rev. Isaac J. Lansing. 

Fruits of the Liquor Traf- 

fic. By Sumner Stebbins, M.D. 

GentleWomau Roused. By 

Rev. E. P. Roe. 


History and Mystery of a 

Glass of Ale. By J. W. Kirton. 

Is Alcohol a Necessary of 

Life? By Prof. Henry Munros. 

Liquor Traffic, The— The 

Fallacies of its Defenders. By Rev. E. 
G. Read. 

Medicinal Drinking. By 

Rev. John Kirk. 

Physiological Action of 

Alcohol. By Prof. Henry Munroe. 

Son of My Friend, The. By 

T. S. Arthur. 

Stimulants for Women. By 

Dr. James Edmunds, M.D. 

Throne of Iniquity, The. 

By Rev. A. Barnes. 

Will the Coming Man Drink 

Wine? By James Parton, Esq. 

Woman’s Crusade, The— A 

Novel Temperance Movement. By Dr. 
D. H. Mann. 


6 


The National Temperance Society's Books. ' 

TEMPERANCE SERMONS. 

Fifteen Cents Each. 

The National Temperance Society have published a series of Sermons in pamphlet 
form upon various phases of the temperance question, by some of the leading clergy- 
men in America. Bound in one volume in cloth, $i 50. 


1. Common Sense for Y oung 

Men. By Rev. Henry Ward Beecher. 

2. Moral Duty of Total Ab- 

stinence. By Rev. T. L. Cuyler. 

3. The Evil Beast. By Rev. 

T. De Witt Talmage. 

4. The Good Samaritan. By 

Rev. J. B. Dunn. 

5. Self-Denial : a Duty and 

a Pleasure. By Rev. J. P. New- 
man, D.Di 

6. The Church and Tempe- 

rance. By John W. Hears, D.D , 
Professor of Hamilton College, New 
York. 

7. Active Pity of a Queen. 

By Rev. John Hall, I).D. 

8. Temperance and the 

Pulpit. By Rev. C. D. Foss, D.D. 

9. The Evil of Intempe- 

rance. By Rev. J. Romeyn Berry. 


10. Liberty and Love. By 

Rev. Henry Ward Beecher. 

11. The Wine and the 

Word. By Rev. Herrick Johnson. 

12. Strange Children. By 

Rev. Peter Stryker. 

13. The Impeachment and 

Punishment of Alcohol. By Rev. 
C. H. Fowler. 

14. Drinking for Health. By 

Rev. H. C. Fish. 

15. Scientific Certainties 

(not Opinions) about Alcohol. By 
Rev. H. W. Warren. 

1G. My Name is Legion. By 

Rev. Stephen H. Tyng, D.D. 

17. The Christian Serving 

his Generation. By Rev. Wm. M. 
Taylor, A.M. 


TEMPERANCE TRACTS. 

The National Temperance Society publish a series of tracts, among which are 190 
i2tno tracts, from one to twelve pages each, 72 i8mo Illustrated Children’s Tracts, 
all of which are put up in neat packets. Price 25 cents each. 

Sixteen Temperance Leaflets, envelope size, in packets, 10 cents each. 


LITHOGRAPHS AND POSTERS. 


The Second Declaration of 

Independence. Size 12 x 19 inches. Per 

100, .‘J 00 

Five Steps in Drinking, 15 


An Honest Itnmseller’s 

Advertisement. Per ioo, - 1 00 

The Total Abstainer’s 

Daily Witness and Bible Verdict, y 5 


7 


The National Temperance Society's Books , 


BAND OF HOPE SUPPLIES. 


Band of Hope Manual. Per 

dozen, - - - - $0 60 

Temperance Catechism. 

Per dozen, ----- 00 

Band of Hope Melodies. I 

Paper, 10 

Band of Hope Badge* En- 
amelled, $i 25 per dozen ; 12 cts. singly. 
Plain, $1 per dozen; 10 cts. singly. Silver 
and Enamelled, each, - - - 50 

National Temperance Ora- 
tor, 1 00 1 

Ripples of Song. Paper cov- 1 

ers, 15 cts. ; per 100, $12. Board covers, 
20 cts. ; per 100, - - - 18 00 

Juvenile Temperance 

Speaker, ----- 25 

Illuminated Pledge Card. 

Per hundred, - - - - 2 00* 


Temperance Medal, io cts. 

each; per dozen. - - - $1 00 

Temperance Exercise. 10 
Illuminated Temperance 

Cards. Set of ten, ... 35 

Juvenile Temperance 

Pledges. Per hundred, - - 3 00 

Certificates of Membership. 

Per hundred, - - - - 3 00 

Band of Hope Certificate 

and Pledge Combined (in colors). Per 
hundred, 4 00 

Temperance Lesson 

Leaves. Nos. 1, 2, 3, each 8 pp Per 
100, ------ 1 00 

The Temperance Speaker. 

7 5 

Catechism on Alcohol. By 

Miss J ulia Colman. Per dcz., 60 


TEMPERANCE PLEDGES. 


1 . Sunday - school Pledge, 

20x28 inches, :n colors, each, SO 25 

2. National Pledge, 20x28 

inches, in colors, each, - 25 

3. Family Pledge, 20 X 14 

inches, each, - - 30 

4. Family Pledge, 13 x 1014 

inches, per ioo, - 2 00 

5. National Pledges, for cir- 

culation at public meetings, per too, 

50 


G. Children’s Illustrated 

Pledge, Q l A x6 inches, per ioo, 

3 00 

7. Children’s Illustrated 

Pledge, not including tobacco, and 
Certificate combined, 12 xo '4 
inches, in colors, per 100, 4 00 

8 . Children’s Illustrated 

Certificate of Membership, 9 W x 6 
inches, per 100, - - 3 00 


9. Children’s Band of Hope 

Pledge, which includes tobacco and 
profanity, and Certificate com- 
bined, 12 x gl 4 inches, in colors, per 
100, - - - - $4 00 

10. Pocket Pledge-Book. 

w.th space for 80 names, - 10 

11. Sunday-school Pledge- 

Book, space for 1,000 names, 

1 50 

12. National Temperance 

Pledge-Book, space for 1,000 
names, 1 50 

13. Temperance Pledge- 

Card, 3^x5 inches, in colors, per 

100, 1 00 

14. Illuminated Pledge- 

Card, per 100, - - 2 00 

Druggists’, Property- Holders’, Gro- 
cers’, Dealers’, Physicians’, and Citi- 
zens’ Pledges, per 100, - - 75 


The National Temperance Society's Books , 


TEMPERANCE DIALOGUES 


Trial anti Condemnation of 

Judas Woemaker. 15 cents. Per 
dozen, $1 50 

The First Glass ; or, The 

Power of Woman’s influence ; and 

The Young Teetotaler; or, 

Saved at Last. 15 cents for both. Per 
dozen, ..... 1 50 

Reclaimed; or, The Danger 

of Moderate Drinking 10 cents. Per 
dozen, 1 00 

Marry No Man if He 

Drinks. 10 cents. Per dozen, 1 00 


Which Will You Choose? 

36 pages. By Miss M D. Chellis. 15 
cents. Per dozen, - - - SI 50 

Wine as a Medicine. 10 

cents. Per dozen, - - - 1 00 

The Stumbling Block. 10 

cents. Per dozen, - - - 100 

Aunt Dinah’s Pledge. Dra- 
matized from the Book, - - 15 

The Temperance Doctor. 

Dramatized from the Book, - 15 

Shall I Marry a Moderate 

Drinker ? 10 cents. Per dozen, 1 00 


THE YOUTH’S TEMPERANCE BANNER. 

The National Temperance Society and Pub ication House publish a beautifully- illus- 
trated four-page monthly paper for children and youths, Sabbath-schools, and juvenile 
temperance organizations. Each number contains several choice engravings, a piece of 
music, and a great variety of articles from the pens of the best writers for children in 
America. 

Its object is to make the temperance work and education a part of the religious cul- 
ture and training of the Sabbath-school and family circle, that the children may be early 
taught to shun the intoxicating cup, and walk in the path of truth, soberness, and 
righteousness. 

The following are some of the writers for The Banner : Mrs. J. P. Ballard (Kruna), 
Miss M. D Chellis, Mrs. Nellie H. Bradley, Rev. Wm. M. Thayer, Edward Carswell, 
Geo W. Bungay, J H. Kellogg, Mrs. J. E. McConaughy, Mrs. M. A. Dennison, Mrs. 
E. J. Richmond, Rev. S. B. S. Bissell, Rev. Alfred Taylor, Mrs. M. A. Kidder, etc., 
etc. 

The Banner has already been welcomed into thousands of Sabbath-schools of all de- 
nominations as the only youth’s temperance paper published for Sabbath-schools. 

Terms, cash in advance, including postage : 


Single copy, one year, - - $0 35 

Eight copies, to one address, - 1 OS 

Ten “ “ “ - 1 35 

Fifteen “ “ “ - ti 03 

Twenty “ “ “ - ii 70 


Thirty copies, to one address, $4 05 
Forty “ “ “ - 5 40 

Fifty “ “ “ - 6 75 

One hundred copies, to one 
address, - - - - 13 00 


We trust the friends of temperance and Sunday-schools will make the effort to intro- 
duce The Banner into every Sunday-school in their midst, as the price at which it is 
published — which does not cover the cost of paper and printing — prevents the sending 
ef agents to introduce it. 


9 


The National Temperance Society's Books. 


THS NATIONAL TEMPERANCE ADVOCATE. 

The National Temperance Society and Publication House publish a monthly papet 
devoted to the interests of the temperance reform, which contains articles upon every 
phase of the movement from the pens of some of the ablest writers in America, among 
whom are: Rev. T. L. Cuyler, D.D , Dr. Charles Jewett, Rev. Wm. Goodell, A. M- 
Powell, Rev Peter Stryker, Rev. J. B. Dunn, Rev- Wm M. Thayer, Rev Wm. Pat- 
ton, D.D., Geo. W. Bungay, Mrs. F. M. Bradley, Miss M. D Cliellis, Kruna, etc., 
etc. 

It also contains a history of the progress of the movement from month to month in 
all of the States, which is of great value to every worker in the cause and to those who 
are in any way interested in the work, and no pains will be spared to make this full ot 
the most valuable information to all classes in the community. 

Terms (cash in advance), including postage: One dollar per year for single copies ; 
ten copies to one address, $9; twenty copies to one address, $18; all over twenty 
copies at 90 cents per copy. 


SEWALL’S STOMACH PLATES- 

The National Temperance Society and Publication House have republished the cele- 
brated lithographic drawings of the human stomach, showing the effects of intoxicating 
liquors, from the first inception of disease occasioned thereby, to death by delirium 
tremens. We have had repeated applications for them during the past few years, and 
have now reproduced them in the original form. The drawings are eight in number. 
Size, 27 x 34 inches. 

These drawings are not the production of mere fancy, but are the result of actual 
scientific research and investigation, in one living case (that of Alexis St. Martin, in 
the year 1822), and of others immediately after death. They are invaluable to every 
student, scientific and medical man, and especially to those who are lecturing upon 
physiology or temperance. They should be in the possession of every college, school, 
temperance society, and reading-room in the land. Price, $12 per set, plain paper; $15, 
mounted and on rollers. 

All orders should be addressed to 


J. N. STEARNS, Publishing Agent, 

58 Heade Street , New York, 

























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